Memories
by youroctober
Summary: Often when a lover leaves, memories are all we have left. But what happens when those are taken from us as well? Harry and Snape barely come together before they are forced apart. SSxHP, graphic sexual content. Complete.
1. Whisked Away

**Chapter 1**

This is the first chapter of what I hope will turn out to be a reasonably lengthy Harry/Snape fanfiction story. This is my attempt at dissecting what I've found to be a ridiculously fascinating relationship: that of two men (or one man and one boy who is close to manhood, anyways) who hate each other in a way that is at best unreasonable. Snape hates Harry because of things done by the boy's father, and Harry hates him purely because of the treatment he's received. Therefore, watching them come together to form a relationship is something that is, to me, very curious. I hope that you'll all be intrigued by it as well.

I hope to have a chapter loaded every week or so, though I have the first five already done. I should warn you all that it's rated M for graphic sexual content, which should cause some of you to either turn away in disgust or read on in excitement! Either way, you all know yourselves best, and I trust you'll take full responsibility for what you view. Feedback and constructive criticism is always greatly appreciated.

Before reading the story, you might all perhaps be interested in viewing the trailer. It contains a summary that is far more in-depth. It's also a link that will lead you to my account, which is filled with my own Snarry videos and a list of my favourite videos. This list contains many Snarry films, along with creations dealing with other ships. The trailer can be found here: http: / w w w .youtube . com /watch?vmbduChlX6Z0 (Please remove all of the spaces).

* * *

Having reduced the pain in his scar to a mere prickling sensation, Harry flung the empty flask into one of his vanity's broken drawers. He crossed the cramped bedroom and sank back into his bed, ignoring the piles of clothes and books littering the floor. Time passed slowly as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to remember the dream that he had just woken from. It was the same nightmare that he had been suffering from for the past three weeks, and yet all that he could remember of it was the irrational fear that he felt upon waking. Whenever he rose from his blankets, his breathing shallow and his hair slick with sweat, he would immediately press his palms into his eyes and attempt to focus his mind onto remembering what he had dreamt of. There were times when the ghost of a voice trickled through to him, and for a few fleeting moments he saw cloaked figures and burning torches in his mind's eye. But the images dripped away as though they were water and he was cupping them in his hands, and so he remained frustratingly unaware of anything other than the sensation of horror that had gripped him nightly since his summer had began.

As he turned onto his side and sighed in defeat, he became aware of a feeling of anticipation growing within him. As was the norm of late, Harry felt a peculiar emotion before understanding why. And yet it was not long before he remembered with satisfaction that he was leaving the Dursleys around noontime the next day to live at Hogwarts. Though he had begged Dumbledore to let him stay with the Weasleys, the Headmaster had refused on the principle that Harry was currently being hunted by Lord Voldemort and that he could not risk his life nor the Weasleys'. Forced to accept this undeniable truth, he had instead decided to spend the majority of his summer vacation at the castle. According to popular opinion, there was no safer place than Hogwarts, what with the school's large number of protective spells and the formidable presence of Albus Dumbledore. And so the Floo Network had been tampered with to allow Harry to travel there safely.

Squinting in the darkness to read the bold, glowing red numbers on his alarm clock, Harry understood it to be nearing one in the morning. He was not tired, and he had a large pile of homework into which he had barely delved; but the chance of perhaps having the same dream (which he certainly would), and perhaps of remembering it (which he certainly would not) proved seductive enough to have him close his eyes and fall into a state of uneasy sleep.

He did not wake, as he expected, due to his dream, but rather to the sound of breaking china below. He heard Aunt Petunia's heels _click _across the floor as she let out a terrified shriek. As he expected, Uncle Vernon's roar, sounding like a bull, soon followed. Harry shot up from his bed, shoved his glasses onto his face and sped downstairs. He burst into the kitchen and the sight before him caused his mouth to drop.

Professor Snape stood before him, wrapped in layers of black cloaks, an unpleasant look on his face.

"Potter," he said, "go get your things at once."

Harry hesitated, then, seeing the vein throbbing in his uncle's temple, hurried back upstairs to pack.

"What's the meaning of this?" he heard Uncle Vernon shout before shutting his door. He made quick work of the clothes and books on the floor, stuffing them haphazardly into his woebegone trunk. He pushed around a few dirty socks and cloaks to make room for the rest of his school supplies and just managed to close the lid shut. Hedwig's cage in hand, he dragged the trunk downstairs.

Though Snape's nose wrinkled at the sight and smell of Hedwig's dirty cage, he refrained from comment. Instead, he continued what Harry supposed was a well-rehearsed explanation to the Dursleys.

"And I can therefore assure you that Mr. Potter will be in good care until the starting of term," he concluded. "If there are any questions, I suggest that you pose them now."

Harry would have told him that there was no point in explaining, for the Dursleys would be perfectly content in seeing him leave. In fact, a sly grin plastered itself onto Uncle Vernon's face.

"Well then, boy," he said loudly, "you have a nice summer. Be seeing you soon, I reckon."

Harry looked at Snape expectantly.

"If there are no questions, we will be leaving," said Snape. "Good day." And with that he marched out of the kitchen, leaving Harry in his wake.

"Er...see you," he mumbled to the Dursleys before following his professor out onto the lawn. It was noontime on a Tuesday, which meant that most people on Privet Drive were at work. The vast majority of the driveways surrounding them were empty, save those that occupied a few children passing a ball tiredly or lazing around. Snape ignored them until they reached the end of the street.

"I suppose that you haven't learned how to Apparate," he said.

Harry shook his head. Snape then looked around suspiciously before stepping behind an immaculately kept hedgerow. Without warning, he gripped Harry's arm. Green eyes widening in surprise, he could not help but feel a sudden burst of emotion as the Potions professor held his limb firmly. Frowning, he shook himself mentally as Snape hissed, "Stay here." With that, the professor scanned the empty lawn before them. Seemingly satisfied, he procured from within his many layers of clothing a small object.

"A button," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Snape sneered. "Again, Potter, you prove to be completely inept at any type of magic. I am comforted that it is not only at Potions that you fail—I was beginning to doubt my own ability at putting anything into my students' heads, however thick."

Harry felt himself growing hot. "A portkey," he growled.

"Indeed," he said sarcastically. "Take hold of the button, Mr Potter: I expect it will activate shortly."

Harry touched the portkey, and within seconds, he felt an invisible hook grab him by the navel. Though he had travelled by portkey before, he was unused to the sensation, and felt rather sick by the time they came to settle in a deep forest.

"I thought we were travelling by Floo," said Harry.

"We are," Snape said shortly. He began to walk briskly into the woods with Harry at his heels. After perhaps twenty minutes of blistering heat, Harry was about to remove his jumper when a log cabin came into view.

"My house," said Snape before Harry could ask.

As they stepped inside, Harry could not help but be surprised: it was a beautiful home. He had expected Snape to live in a dark, cold home, filled with bottles of unidentifiable slimy substances lining the walls and boiling cauldrons. What he found instead were plain but seemingly comfortable chintz chairs, a roaring fireplace and the faint smell of vanilla.

"Hurry," the older man snapped. Into Harry's hands a black pot filled with Floo Powder was thrust. He took a handful, and returning the pot to Snape, neared the fireplace.

"Hogwarts," Harry said before casting his Floo Powder into the flames. These turned bright green, and, as he stepped into the fire, his last sight was Snape's sour face before he began to spin rapidly. This was perhaps a worse way of travelling than even Apparition; he was indeed very relieved when he stopped spinning. Sooty and sneezing, he stumbled into Dumbledore's office as Snape followed, perfectly clean and composed.

"Excellent," came Dumbledore's voice. Happiness filled Harry immediately: however little he liked Snape, he enjoyed the Headmaster's company immensely.

"Hello, professor," he said. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his long grey beard twinkling in the light of the candles surrounding him.

"Harry," he beamed. With a flick of his wand, the soot was removed from Harry's clothes and glasses. "How are you? Come, have a biscuit."

He offered a tin filled with sweets as Harry took a seat by his desk.

"Were there any problems?" Dumbledore addressed the question to Snape.

"None," was the reply. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a number of things to attend to."

"You work far too much, Severus," Dumbledore said, smiling sadly.

"The Hospital Wing must have its stock replenished before the start of term," he answered. Bowing his head, he left the room with a swish of his cloak.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, gazing at the place where Snape once stood, before smiling again and turning to Harry.

"My dear boy, how wonderful it is to see you at the castle," he said. "Have you been having an enjoyable summer?"

"Not really," Harry admitted.

"Then I hope that your stay here at Hogwarts shall be as restful as it shall be pleasurable," he said. "If you would like to take your things to your dormitory, your bed has been prepared already. Meals are at regular times, and every part of the castle that is usually available to you still is."

"Are many of the teachers still here?"

"No: the majority go home during summer," he answered. "However, I believe you will find Professor Snape, Professor Trelawney and Professor Sprout here most days."

"And Hagrid?" The question was a hopeful one.

"He is away on business." His tone was gentle, yet there was an edge to it that told Harry that he was not to question further.

He said his goodbyes and left, wondering all the while where Hagrid was.

As he crawled into his bed that night, he felt sleep wash over his body immediately. It was the first day in three weeks that he had done something other than lay around his room, counting the days until summer was over. Before he fell asleep, he wondered absently why it had been Snape, of all people, who had been sent to fetch him at the Dursleys'.


	2. Remedial Potions

**Chapter 2**

As he woke the following morning, Harry was pleased to note that he had not, for once, experienced his recurring dream. Instead, he had had a most pleasant sleep, and hoped to follow it up with an excellent breakfast. He was not disappointed: his bacon and eggs were quite as good as usual, and he found it oddly relaxing to eat them alone in the comfort of the Common Room. The House Elves had made sure to lay him out a diverse spread, and he regretted not being able to finish it all. The tight waistband on his jeans, however, forced him to rise from his seat and head outdoors.

Sunlight pooled in from the windows lining the hallways. His mood soaring, Harry quickly ran back to the dormitory to fetch his broomstick. He was planning on winning the House Cup next year, given that it would be his second last at Hogwarts, and he realized that he would have unlimited opportunities to practice during the summer now. He had nearly reached the pitch when to his amazement he saw Snape approaching him.

"Professor?" he asked, surprised at seeing the Potions Master outside of the school.

"Potter," was the unpleasant yet not unexpected reply.

Harry made to continue on his way, as he could think of no polite way of asking why Snape was outdoors. He need not have worried; he was spared the trouble as his professor held up two brown bags.

"Herbs, for the Hospital Wing," he said. Scoffing, he then continued, "though I can't imagine why this would interest you in any way."

There was a pause, during which he eyed Harry's broom with obvious disdain. "Going to practice, are you?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Well," Snape wrapped his cloaks around him and began to depart. "I daresay you'll need much practice if you expect to beat Slytherin this year."

This comment was so typical of the Slytherin Head of House that Harry could not help but smile slightly as he watched him retreat to the castle.

When he first kicked off and shot into the air, Harry's worries and fears melted away. Any unhappiness that he had felt recently became nonexistent as he flew around the pitch, feeling the wind sweep through his hair and sting his eyes. Though he was a bit rusty from not having played recently, he quickly fell back to his usual standards and before long he was practicing Wronski Feints. It wasn't until his stomach growled angrily that he realized that he had missed lunch. Sweaty and sticky yet highly content, he made his way back to the Common Room where delicious sandwiches and lemonade were waiting for him.

The rest of the month continued like this, until he became quite tanned. He also noticed that he was becoming thinner. For the first time in his life, Harry had been gaining weight, due to excess eating from stress. This fat was now being replaced with muscle, and he was quite pleased with his appearance.

He was busy looking over his Charms homework when he heard someone enter the Common Room. Craning his neck, he saw Dobby the House Elf coming towards him eagerly.

"Dobby," he greeted. "How are you?"

"Harry Potter, sir!" he cried. "Dobby is most pleased to see that Harry Potter is doing well, for Dobby heard that he was in grave danger."

"When am I not?" he asked. "Anyway, it's safe at Hogwarts, so I wouldn't worry if I were you." He paused, then said hurriedly, "Or try to help me, for that matter."

"Dobby promised that he would not help Harry Potter unless he had permission," he sighed. "Though he does wonder if that was a wise choice."

Noticing a letter in Dobby's hand, Harry said, "What's that you've got?"

"Ah, yes!" the House Elf gasped. "Dobby was nearly forgetting! Dobby will have to shut his fingers in the door later, certainly."

"That won't be necessary," said Harry as he took the letter.

"Dobby must be leaving, but hopefully Harry Potter will come visit the House Elves when he can!"

"Of course I will." Harry smiled.

Bowing, Dobby retreated, leaving Harry to his letter, which read:

_Mr. Potter,_

_Professor Dumbledore has brought to my attention the fact that it would be wise to have you take Potions lessons this summer, given your usual abysmal grades in my class. Perhaps extra tutoring shall help improve your grade next year and prevent you from having to retake the class again. If you are interested, come to my chambers tomorrow at 6 PM._

_Professor Snape._

Harry sighed. He could not, of course, refuse. His Potions marks were terrible, and if he wanted to become an Auror, he would have to greatly improve. That his summer bliss would have to be interrupted by sessions with the unpleasant Potions Master, however, did little to excite him. It was therefore with a definite glumness that Harry made his way into the dungeon the next day.

"Potter," said Snape as he opened his door to grant Harry entrance. "Professor Dumbledore has taken the liberty of purchasing for you your school supplies, and so I have here your textbook. Kindly set up a cauldron on one of the desks, and I must insist, _do not touch anything._"

Nodding, Harry set up his station then waited as the Potions Master swept over his textbook, sneering or frowning occasionally. When he looked up and saw that Harry was done, he stepped towards him and handed him the book.

"Page 68," he said. "See what you can make of it. You have one hour."

Not expecting further instructions, he flipped to the page in question. According to the title, the potion was called Lux Lucis. Further reading revealed that it created a temporary light that could be carried in a bottle for an unlimited amount of time. It was also handy in that with a simple incantation the light could be shut off.

The ingredients and directions were fairly simple, and before long Harry had a golden vapour rising from his cauldron, as the textbook said that he should. With ten minutes left, he stirred the mix tentatively. It was not as thick as the book said that it probably should be, but it was one of his better potion efforts. He attributed this largely to the fact that Snape had not been hovering over him and whispering insults. In fact, he hadn't been present for the entire hour. As Harry took care of his fire and poured some of his potion into a flask, however, Snape stepped into the room. He seemed to be very tired.

He was silent as he took the flask and eyed it suspiciously. He smelled the cauldron, then pulled out his wand. With a flick, he turned off the lights. It became very dark in the small room, and yet the potion glowed strongly. Harry felt a surge of pride.

"A bit runny," Snape said coldly. "And yet a rather decent attempt, Potter."

Harry looked into his face defiantly. He knew that he had done an excellent job, and Snape's lack of the usual insults seemed to prove it. He frowned at his professor's face, illuminated by the golden potion. Snape stared back, until Harry blushed and forced himself to look at the ground. Snape suddenly turned back on the lights. Without sparing him another glance, he set the flask next to Harry's cauldron. Picking up his books, he said with little emotion, "We will meet again next week." He then left Harry to clean up his things.


	3. Vervain

**Chapter 3**

I'm terribly sorry that this is so short...but I'm really one for quality over quantity, I suppose. Though it's up to all of you as to whether this is of quality or not. Either way, I hope you enjoy it, and I assure you that while the chapters may at times be short, that there will be quite a bit of them.

* * *

Harry felt the wind whip through his hair as he walked solemnly through the trees. He was making his way through the edge of the forest, skirting around the larger trees. He did not intend on plunging deeper. The sun was pleasantly bright and the cool breeze refreshed him. Gazing intently at the castle, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed.

He would have given all of his gold, and perhaps even his Firebolt, to have been able to stay in the castle alone. In less than a month students would be returning from their holidays and filling the hallways. The peaceful silence that reigned about him as he made his way to breakfast would be punctured by their laughter and shouting. Though he knew that it was hardly fair or mature, he couldn't help but feel that the castle belonged far more to him, as he had spent the entire summer there. They had no business coming and ruining the experience for him.

But that was of course ridiculous. It was as much their castle as his, and he had no right to be feeling negatively towards them. Brushing the thought from his head, he remembered suddenly that he had a letter to write to Hermione. He was just about to turn back when he saw a cloaked figure hunching amidst the thick vegetation of the forest, a few metres away. He darted behind the nearest tree and pulled out his wand, heart beating wildly. He was trying to decide whether it would be best to confront the figure or to rush off to Dumbledore when the intruder rose. Harry sighed with relief as he recognized Professor Snape.

Consulting a lengthy list, the professor muttered and began to move towards him. Realising how silly he looked, Harry leapt from the tree and tried his best to appear as innocent as possible.

Startled by the sudden movement, Snape looked up. Looking him over, the Potions Master frowned darkly and made to fold his list.

"Potter," he said suspiciously, drawing closer. "What are you doing, skulking about?" His dark eyes were positively piercing.

Harry felt himself colour. "I was not _skulking_," he said. "I was walking."

"Indeed," Snape sneered. "Go on with your walking, then, Potter, unless you'd like to prove yourself useful for once."

Choosing to ignore the obvious insult, Harry shot him an inquisitive look.

"I need to return to the castle with these herbs as quickly as possible before they dry," said Snape. "If you would find me something, I could brew these much quicker. If, of course, you are capable of recognizing the herb."

"Alright, then," Harry said before he could help himself. He could not quite understand why he had agreed to help. Was it because of the challenge Snape was clearly presenting to him, or did he honestly wish to help? Harry was leaning strongly towards the former.

"I am looking for an herb called Vervain," he said. "You won't find it in the forest: it doesn't like the shade. I'd suggest looking by Hagrid's."

Harry's eyebrows shot up as Snape reached into his cloak and extracted a thick book from its many folds. How in the world had the man managed to carry around that enormous volume?

"A simple incantation to make objects lighter than they are," he smirked upon seeing his student's expression. "Learned in second year, I believe? In any case, there it is."

He shoved the book in Harry's direction. It was turned at a page showing a rather simple, purple plant.

"I will be my chambers," he said, turning to the castle. "I do hope you'll prove yourself at least _mildly _competent at finding for me a simple plant, Potter."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, silently vowing to find it as quickly as possible.

This proved harder than he expected. The sun was beating mercilessly on his neck as he sorted through various weeds and grasses, looking all the while for a hint of purple. At last, when he was nearly ready to give up, he located what could only be the Vervain. Herbs in hand, he hurried to meet Snape, feeling quite proud of himself.

The moment Harry entered, Snape cast him a nasty look, muttering something about wasting his time.

"I didn't _have _to do it, you know," he said heatedly. "I didn't have to do anything. You barely told me where to look."

"Indeed," said Snape. Busy stirring the potion, he seemed to have barely listened to a word Harry had said. Instead, he added ingredients at leisure, pausing at times to read over the instructions.

Harry was fascinated by the way that his professor became absorbed into what he was doing. He watched each line etched into the older man's face glimmer in the vapour rising from the cauldron, black eyes glinting in what he almost mistook for anticipation.

Finally, as the potion turned to a brilliant scarlet, he stepped away from the cauldron and brushed off his robes that were now sprinkled with herbs and crushed insects.

"The potion should go into the flasks on the counter," he said, gathering his books and leftover ingredients. "If you manage to pour it all without wasting any, I might give you a reprieve tonight."

"Alright, as long as Professor Dumbledore doesn't know," Harry replied.

Though Snape didn't answer, he knew that Dumbledore wouldn't find out. All the same, as he began to sort through the flasks, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that he didn't quite understand. Perhaps he was finally maturing, but as much as he would have liked to go for a walk after dinner, he knew that he should worry first and foremost about his education.

This was unlikely, of course, but he wasn't willing to mull over any other alternatives to his feeling of loss at not seeing Snape later in the day.

"Actually, professor," he said quickly before the man in question could leave. "I had a question about something in my book."

Back turned to Harry, Snape was silent and motionless for several seconds, hand immobile on the doorframe. At long last, he uttered, "Very well. I will see you after dinner, and no later than nine."

"I'll be here, sir," Harry said, returning to his work. He smirked as he heard the familiar sound of Snape's cloak brush against the floor, heading no doubt to his personal chambers. Perhaps the man wasn't so eager to hate Harry as Harry had been to hate him.


	4. Cracking

**Chapter 4**

"Enter," said Snape as Harry knocked on the door. He slipped in quickly, books under his arm.

"You had a question?" Snape wished no doubt to hurry this along. Harry suspected that he had many other things to do, and made a mental note to keep this brief.

"I tried making that Potion you suggested," he said. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, and so he merely stood by the door uncertainly. "I couldn't get it right; the colour was off and the texture was all wrong.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I don't suppose that this could somehow be because you are less than perfect at the subject itself?" he replied silkily. "I do imagine that this may come as somewhat of a surprise to you, Potter, but being the wizarding saviour that you are does not rid you of what us common folk know as faults." His eyes gleamed triumphantly.

Though he had promised himself at the beginning of the summer to keep his temper in check, knowing all too well that any mishaps could cost him his Potions note, he could contain himself no longer.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice level, "I don't know what you've got against me, or why. But I'm not arrogant, and I'm not perfect. I know I've got faults, just like anyone else, and I'm asking for help."

"What is this rubbish you're feeding me?" he smirked. "Humility and modesty are certainly not qualities that you possess, Potter. Nor did your father."

"My father and I aren't the same person," he said in a furious tone.

Snape paused, the look on his face unreadable. Then, slowly, carefully, as though weighing his words, he uttered, "I am well aware, Potter. However, excuse me for saying that you are uncannily similar to him. Much to your disadvantage, I assure you."

He had no idea how to reply. He was angry and thoroughly frustrated with the Potions teacher's attitude. Finally, he turned sharply and made a line towards the door. When Snape didn't protest his leaving, he said, "I'll figure it out on my own, sir."

He then shut the door perhaps more forcefully than necessary and retreated to his dormitory. He pulled out the large picture album that Hagrid had made several years prior. Leafing absently through the pages, he stared into his father's eyes in each picture, trying to determine what he was thinking.

"Were you so horrible?" he muttered, fingering the corner of a page. "Am I like you, then? Arrogant?" Defiance rose in him like a heated balloon. "No. No, I'm not."

He closed the album and shoved it back in his trunk before crawling into bed. He had no idea now how he would go about fixing his potion. He thought perhaps of visiting Dumbledore. It was with this comforting thought that he fell asleep.

-o-

"Harry, Professor Snape is merely stressed at the moment," said Dumbledore gently. "He does not hate you, and I'm sure that once the burden of supplying the Hospital Wing is alleviated, he will be more than happy to assist you."

Harry exhaled.

"I just don't get," he said at length, "why he seems to hate me. _So much._"

"He seems to," was the reply, "but he does not. Now, I would suggest that you get in some flying today. It's a particularly beautiful day outside."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, rising.

"Oh, and Harry?" Dumbledore called after him. "Please go and see Professor Snape this evening for some assistance with your potion. Determination is key, you know."

He wasn't quite sure what to make of this, but upon the sight of Dumbledore's serene smile, he simply smiled back and proceeded to his dormitory. There he grabbed his broom, changed into more comfortable clothing, and headed outside to fly around the pitch.

When at night he knocked on the door of the Potions room, he held his breath. He did not wish to deal with Snape's disagreeable attitude towards him, but his trust in Dumbledore had pushed him to follow his advice and come anyways. That, and he needed considerable help for this potion, which he knew would be appearing on his NEWTs.

"Potter," said Snape as he opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I still haven't managed to sort out my potion," he said, holding up his textbook as proof.

Snape's lip curled, and he seemed on the verge of saying something particularly stinging. He refrained, however, and simply walked back into the room. Harry took this as his cue to follow and did so, albeit hesitantly. He wondered if Dumbledore had spoken to him, and hoped otherwise. That would just give Snape more fuel.

But his professor didn't seem to be interested in harassing him tonight. Instead, he simply shoved away his own things and brought his cauldron to sit on a bright, red fire.

"Which potion?" he asked curtly.

"Er..." Harry flipped through his book until coming to the right page. "The Boiling Solution, sir."

He received no response. Instead, Snape went to his cupboards and began to open drawers at random, pulling out various ingredients. He went back to his cauldron and added four of these, then began to stir.

"Observe," was his only instruction. He spoke no more for the rest hour, simply brewing the potion at hand. Harry watched carefully, also scrutinizing the man's face. Though he was often guarded and an introvert, Harry could see his passion for this art painted into the very lines of his face. His eyes gleamed with more than just an academic interest: this fascinated him, and took hold of him. He wondered if Snape felt the same pleasant lunge in his stomach, the same soaring happiness, the same pure joy in making potions that Harry received from flying.

When Snape was finished, he put out the fire with his wand and beckoned to Harry to approach. Peering into the cauldron, he was not surprised to see that the potion was flawlessly like the one in the textbook.

"The trick," said Snape, his voice raspy from not speaking, "is to reduce the amount of time spent between putting in the ingredients. Prepare them before you begin, and put them in as soon as the potion changes colour and goes into the next stage. Otherwise, it'll become spoiled."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"You will come here tomorrow evening," said Snape, tapping the cauldron and causing his concoction to disappear. "And you will brew this potion. You may leave."

Harry gathered his things and left, flabbergast. There had been no snide remarks, no rude comments, no hateful references to his father. He was now positive that Dumbledore had meddled somehow. When a House-elf approached him and announced that the Headmaster requested his presence, he was not altogether surprised. He followed the messenger to the Entrance Hall, where Dumbledore was observing a portrait of a fat man chasing a pig. Suppressing a grin, he went to stand by Dumbledore's side.

"Ah, Harry," he greeted warmly. "I suspect that your Potions lesson went well?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "Did you...er...talk to Professor Snape?"

"About what happened between you two?" he asked. "No, I did not. Did you?"

"No," he said, now even further confused. "Well, I mean, I told him yesterday that I was annoyed, but not today."

"Perhaps your explanation struck him as worthy of consideration," Dumbledore said lightly.

Harry highly doubted that, but chose not to voice this. Instead, he bid the Headmaster goodnight, and left him to his artistic pursuits.

Glancing a final time at the portrait, where the man had now successfully grabbed the pig and was petting its bald head, he couldn't decide who was madder, Dumbledore or Snape. He suspected that Dumbledore was cracked, and that Snape was cracking.


	5. Stay With Me

**Chapter 5**

Harry felt the sweat accumulate on his brow as he prodded his potion feverishly. According to the textbook, his potion was more than adequate; however, he wasn't sure if it met his professor's standards.

"Done?" the man in question demanded, drawing closer. Harry nodded and stepped back, allowing Snape to access to the cauldron.

Cautiously, he sniffed at the liquid, his experienced eyes judging the colour and texture before him. He took a ladle and spooned a small bit, judging it carefully. After several moments, he withdrew and sniffed.

"A decent attempt," he said.

Harry could not help but grin triumphantly. A 'decent attempt' to Snape was quite a success. He saw in his teacher's face that he was searching for something to criticize. At last, he said, "The texture is more milky than I would like. Do lighten up on the beetles, Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. If that was the worst that could be said about his potion, he would take it.

Unsure of what to do next, he watched Snape cut up his own ingredients. He hesitated, then made to clean up his potion.

"Leave it," Snape said without taking his eyes off of his ingredients.

He received no further explanation or instruction and dared not inquire further.

"Yes, sir," he said before grabbing his book. "Well, bye, then." He lingered by the doorway, waiting for a response. When he did not receive one, he opened the door and was about to step about when he heard Snape mutter, "Tomorrow evening, Potter."

"Yes, sir," he replied. Before shutting the door to Snape's chambers, he caught sight of the Potions professor's expression: he was thoughtful, and he had stopped cutting his ingredients. Harry thought he heard a sigh escape the man's lips before the door fell into its frame, cutting away his view.

-o-

Harry checked his watch another time. It read 1:20 AM in its red, illuminated letters. He turned onto his back and accepted the fact that he was incapable of falling asleep. He thought vaguely of doing his Charms homework, but laziness caused him to toss that idea aside. He thought of beginning a letter to Ron. Grabbing his wand and muttering a quick "Lumos", Harry crawled to the edge of his bed and began to search through his trunk for a spare quill and bit of parchment. He felt the rough edge of paper, and pulled out what he thought was a large scroll of parchment. Upon further inspection, it revealed itself to be The Marauder's Map. Aware that he was probably too tired to write anything decent to Ron, he decided instead to examine his map. Unfurling it, he tapped its center and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Black lines began to trace themselves on its surface, and before long he could distinguish the various rooms that made up Hogwarts. He began to spot dots moving across the page. These were labelled according to the person that they represented. Dumbledore, he saw, was pacing in his study. Harry wondered what he was doing up at this hour. After looking for Filch and finding him, he saw another dot roaming not far from where he was. It read in a small, neat print "Severus Snape." He watched, transfixed, as the dot travelled to the edge of a hallway, paused, then went down another. Before he could help himself, he thought wildly of going to Snape and asking for Potions help. This was founded on three things. First of all, he planned on concentrating on his Transfiguration homework tomorrow evening, as Professor McGonagall would be visiting the castle, according to Dumbledore. Secondly, he was curious as to what Snape was up to. It was summer, and Snape couldn't punish him for being out of bed at this late hour. Finally, a bizarre and unnerving desire to speak to the man, even if it meant getting rebuffed and sent back to bed, gripped him fiercely.

Perhaps it was Gryffindor bravery (or foolishness), or perhaps his lack of sleep was affecting his judgement, but he slipped out of bed and slid his feet into a pair of slippers. Eyes on the Marauder's Map, he determined that Snape was near the Trophy Room. He left the dormitory and made for that direction, altering his course every once in a while to match Snape's. As their dots on the map were slowly drawing closer, he started to develop a cold sweat. There was still time to go back and try to fall asleep, or work on his homework. Every step he took had him realize more and more how ridiculous this was. It was now almost two in the morning, and here he was, in his pyjamas, searching the castle in hopes of meeting a man who would most likely give him a month's detention, were it possible. At the very least, he would find Harry's behaviour extremely eccentric, and would no doubt use it to taunt and humiliate him for many months to come. How would the Slytherins react when they heard that batty, loony Potter had been traipsing about the castle in the middle of the night to find Snape? For help with Potions, of all things? It was ludicrous. And yet, for all its insanity, he kept walking, until a mere hallway separated their dots on the map.

He strained his eyes to peer into the darkness. His wand was still lit, yet it only created so much light. Paintings were snoring on the walls, but otherwise, he heard no noise. He checked his map, but before he could search for the dot labelled "Severus Snape", he saw one that said "Argus Filch" coming much closer. Panicking, he dimmed his wand and stood in complete darkness, trying desperately to hear the sound of nearing footsteps. Without warning, a bright light shone in his face, blinding him momentarily.

"Potter," said Snape. "Pray tell what, exactly, you are doing out of bed at this hour."

Rubbing his eyes to get rid of the white specks now crowding his vision, he mulled over his answer before replying.

"I was taking a walk," he said at last.

Now capable of seeing, he stared into Snape's face, which had a look of doubt plastered upon it. Sighing in defeat, he chose instead to be truthful.

"Actually, I was, er, looking for you, sir," he said, cringing at how ridiculous it sounded out loud.

"Were you now?" he asked. His eyebrow was cocked, but otherwise, his face bore no expression. "And what gave you the impression that I would not be asleep, as are most at this hour?"

Harry reddened.

"I didn't know, sir," he said. "I just...thought I'd have a look. I couldn't sleep anyways."

Though he appeared to be dissatisfied with this answer, Snape said nothing. Instead, he stood silently, smirking to himself.

"Well," he said after a moment, "what was it that you wanted?"

"Actually, I needed help with Potions," was the reply. Upon seeing the look of disbelief that Snape gave him, he continued quickly, "Professor McGonagall is supposed to be here tomorrow, so I couldn't come see you in the evening. So I thought maybe now...since I couldn't sleep..."

"Indeed," he said. "And why not wait until morning, at a more conventional hour?"

Harry had no answer.

"I don't know, sir," he said finally. "I didn't think."

"Follow me," said Snape, holding his wand high to light the way. Harry was shocked, and it took him several seconds to follow the order. They made their way through the hallway, and down a flight of stairs. Harry wondered where Snape was taking him, but knew that it would be far too risky to take a look at his map. As they descended another staircase, Harry felt it become distinctly colder. He imagined that they were in the dungeons. He had feared that Snape was going to bring him to Dumbledore. He hoped now that he would instead offer him the help he had requested.

But when they stopped at a doorway, it was not the one that Harry had been used to knocking at. It was plain, with no visible handle.

"Stand back," said Snape. Harry complied, and while Snape ran his wand over the door and then tapped it sharply, he took his map and wiped it clean. He shoved it into his pocket as he was told to enter.

He came into what he suspected were Snape's personal chambers. As was the case with his house, Harry was surprised. It was sparsely furnished, with a few green armchairs and a thick rug; on a wall stood a row of cupboards on which were several multicoloured bottles and jars.

Harry was deeply confused, then supposed that perhaps Snape didn't want to go through the trouble of setting up his Potions classroom. He wondered if the man had his own equipment here. While 

Harry observed the room and tried to decipher what was going on, Snape lit a fire in the grate and then sat himself in the armchair furthest from the fireplace.

"Potter," he began, "I don't believe your story for an instant. Wandering about the castle to find your Potions professor, hoping that he might not be in bed, which is highly unlikely, considering the hour. I don't suppose you would find that...suspicious?" At the last word, he stood and drew closer, black eyes glinting like hot coals. Harry had never quite noticed how finely structured his professor's face was: it seemed almost artistically crafted in the firelight. It was fragile, its shapes thin and austere.

"What, precisely, were you doing out of bed?" he asked.

"Looking for you," Harry said, "for Potions help." Snape held his gaze, as though searching in his eyes for the truth. Harry looked back stubbornly, refusing to show a hint of weakness.

"I've just detailed why I find that explanation unlikely," he replied sharply. "I have a certain potion that you might be familiar with, Potter. Though its use is not to be taken lightly, you might find that I have a certain amount of leverage with the Headmaster. If I were to say that my wellbeing was in danger, or worse, that yours was in peril...the use of Veritaserum should easily be excused."

Harry felt his mouth go dry.

"You wouldn't," he said. He was horrified at how small and weak his voice sounded in comparison to Snape's.

"Wouldn't I?" Snape's eyes were gleaming. "You've certainly given me reason to. Skulking about, supposedly searching for me...Perhaps you weren't looking for me at all. Perhaps your motives are far less simple than that. You've offered me little proof over the last years, Potter, to verify that you are not a student who is regularly causing mischief."

"I was looking for you," Harry repeated. He was now torn: should he confide to his Potions professor the entirety of why he had been looking for him and face his probable displeasure, or keep his motives to himself and face worse consequences? It was a simple decision, and his shoulders sagged as he said, "Look. The truth is...I have this map. It lets me see who's in the castle, where they are, who they're with. So I saw you on it, and I wondered what you were up to. And then I remembered my Potions homework, and I, er, figured I'd ask you."

"Let me see this map," Snape ordered.

"I left it in my dorm," Harry said quickly.

"Convenient," Snape replied. "So let me see, Potter...you've been using a map that is probably full of some sort of dark sorcery to spy on the residents of this castle, and then you take it into your own hands to see what sly, suspicious Professor Snape is up to. You have a certain disregard for the rules, don't you? I suppose you're above that sort of thing?"

"No, I'm not," he said. "And I've never heard of any rule that says that we can't have a map that lets us know where people are. And I wasn't suspicious of you, I was just...curious."

"Curious?"

"At what you were doing up so late," he elaborated.

"I'm not an idiot, Potter," he snapped. "I merely find it fascinating that someone whom you despise so much could rouse enough curiosity to make you get out of your bed at two in the morning."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he chose instead to shrug noncommittally.

"Potter, if you don't want me pouring a certain potion of mine down your throat, I suggest that instead of flexing your shoulders, you should perhaps give me a more truthful story," said Snape in his most dangerously calm voice. "Or at least, a story that I might take seriously."

Harry rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. If Snape forced him to take Veritaserum, he knew that he would spill a number of things that would embarrass him beyond imagination. It was far better to tell him himself. At least then, he suspected, he could make himself sound as sane as possible.

"You see," he began, throat dry and sore from anxiety, "the truth is...well." He summoned all of his Gryffindor courage. "I've become fascinated by you."

He expected a comment, and braced himself; but Snape merely continued to watch him expectantly.

"You're not what I thought you were like," he continued, heartened by the reception thus far. "I thought that you were cold and cruel, with no emotion. But you're..." He weighed his words before finishing lamely, "not like that."

"Then what am I like?" he asked.

"You're decent," Harry said. "You're almost...pleasant to be around, really, when you're not insulting me whenever I speak. When we're just brewing potions, or you're explaining to me a concept, you're smart. You're interesting. You're..." He turned a magnificent shade of scarlet.

"Yes?" Snape all but whispered.

"Someone I like to spend time with," his voice was lower even than Snape's. Harry felt like an absolute fool. He cursed himself bitterly for having gone off in search of Snape. What had he been thinking? Now he was probably going to get suspended. At best, Snape would consider him a raving lunatic.

"Ah," said Snape, seemingly satisfied. "At last, the truth is revealed. Don't think that I haven't noticed a change in your behaviour, Potter. Finding me herbs when you could have easily made up some sort of excuse? You're good at that. It wouldn't have been difficult. Coming to me for Potions help when you detest the subject? Your excuse of wanting to become an Auror seemed likely to me at first, and I expected you to be punctual when I scheduled a meeting. But to schedule them yourself, to request my help specifically, when you know all too well that with a few more tries you could have made the potion yourself...Something was amiss. And you've gone and solved the puzzle for me."

"I have?" Harry asked nervously. In retrospect, Snape was perfectly right: his behaviour had been strange. He'd barely noticed it himself, given that when he had asked for Snape's help or offered his assistance, he had been acting purely on a whim. Now, however, it seemed idiotic to be as stupid as he had been. He could barely admit to himself what had been becoming, over the past few weeks, unfortunately obvious. And now, at gaining on three in the morning, he was about to tell it to his professor in person, before he had been able to completely digest the information himself.

"You fancy me, don't you, Potter?" His voice was not mocking. If anything, it was a mix of curiosity and complacency.

"What?" he feigned shock. "No, no I don't. You're mad. Fancy you?" He laughed, and to his own ears, it sounded fake. He was sinking quickly, and he knew it. "I don't fancy blokes."

"That doesn't mean a thing," Snape said. This proved once and for all that the man could read minds, for Harry had been thinking the same thing for the last week or so. "You can prefer whichever gender you like, but when you meet an individual for whom you experience great attraction, whatever genitalia they possess becomes unimportant."

"Er," was all Harry could say. "I suppose." He found himself caught between wanting to run to his dormitory and never look Snape in the eye again, wanting to simply admit what he was now nearly willing to admit to himself, and wanting to curse him and erase his memory.

"My, my, I wonder what the world would say," he muttered, drawing even closer. They were nearly the same height, though Harry still had to look up slightly to meet the older man's eye. "Harry Potter, the wizarding world's saviour, enamoured by his wretched, evil, horrible Potions professor. His teacher, no less! A man old enough to be his father. I do wonder what everyone would say."

"I don't care," the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being in the spotlight, and everyone watching my every move, because I'm an icon for them all. That's all I am. A hero with no emotions. My purpose is to save them all, and while I'm at it, to be perfect so that they can admire me from afar. I'm tired of it. I don't care."

He had barely finished speaking when Snape suddenly pressed his mouth against his, cutting off his words. Harry's hands flew to the other man's face. At first, he meant to push him off, but as tongue slid sensually across tongue, his hands moved instead to wrap around Snape's neck and pull him closer. He smelled cinnamon and the faint smell of burning wood, and it nearly drowned him. He tasted this scent, and it invaded his mind, and he felt himself falling into a world where ideas came slowly to his mind. He could barely breathe or think, and when Snape bit on his lip and then pulled away, he was embarrassed by how hard he was panting. It gave him pride, however, to see that Snape was not his usual composed self. His breathing was heavier, his hair was messy, and his face was flushed.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, mortified. He could hardly remember what had happened. Had Snape kissed him? Had he kissed Snape? Did it matter at this point? "I'm so sorry."

He backed up, and didn't hear what Snape was saying to him. His thoughts were miles away, towards his friends, imagining what they would say if they could see him now. He thought of Dumbledore, and how disappointed he would be if he knew, and of his parents, and what they would think of him.

But Snape was grabbing his arms too hard, and though he cried out, he couldn't pull free. Snape then lifted him off his feet, and such was his surprised that he stopped protesting instantly. He was being carried to another room. He tried to look around, but couldn't see in the darkness. He was suddenly plopped down onto a soft, springy bed. Two sides of his mind were now pulling at him desperately: one that told him to get out, run, and tell Dumbledore that Snape was a madman, and the other that told him to crawl under the sheets and feel Snape's limbs against his own. He had dreamed about it, filthy though it had made him feel, and it was now seconds away. It was his for the taking.

Snape sensed his confusion and seemed to want to pull him in one direction in particular. He arranged himself next to Harry and ran his fingers through his black hair, muttering in his ear.

"Stay with me," he said. "You want it. You know you do. If this is what you want, what you truly want, then stay with me. If you don't, then leave, and we'll never speak of it again."

Slowly, cautiously, Harry turned his head to look at Snape. Those black eyes were not shining with contempt or cruelty, but with desire and, perhaps deeper, with love. He couldn't resist: it was beyond him. He had deprived himself for so long. He had never experienced a regular childhood because of the fate that had been set upon him. He had never just gone through school worrying about homework and looking cool, as Voldemort had constantly occupied his thoughts. Just this once, he decided, he would do what _he _truly wanted.

With that decision he leaned in and kissed Snape squarely on the lips, hands reaching to rid him off his cloak.


	6. Seeds of Love

**Chapter 6**

As they lay side by side, rain trickling down the window opposite them, they heard little save the patter of raindrops on the rooftop. Harry felt a mixture of shyness and tenderness towards the man beside him. His eyes were shut, one arm beneath his head, the other wrapped lazily around Harry's shoulders. Slowly, the latter moved closer. Snape's eyes opened. He seemed to be very tired, and very relaxed.

"Should I leave?" Harry whispered.

Snape closed his eyes and remained silent. After a few minutes, Harry suspected that he had fallen asleep, and so he shut his eyes in hopes of drifting off as well. But Snape then muttered, "What time is it?"

He turned his wrist, and his watch told him that it was five in the morning.

"Five," he said.

"Stay for a while," was all that Snape said before falling asleep.

Harry stayed still, incapable of following his example. He was tense and worried. What if Dumbledore came and found out where he was? Half-naked in his Potions professor's bed? He felt the urge to crawl into his own sheets. But at the sight of Snape next to him, that urge melted away as quickly as it had come: the warmth around him was addictive and he couldn't force himself to leave it. He therefore shut his eyes and succumbed to the side of him that didn't care how this looked, didn't care if it was right or wrong, and just wanted to be peaceful without worrying about the consequences.

-o-

Harry awoke when he felt the sheets stir around him. Vision blurry, he checked his watch, and found that it was now nine. He looked around and found Snape sitting on the side of the bed, adjusting the folds of his cloak. He had not yet noticed that Harry was awake.

"Er...professor?" he asked, groping around for his glasses. They were suddenly put into his hand by the older man.

Rising out of the bed, Harry coloured at the sight of his clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor.

"I'll leave, then," he said, stung by the lack of communication between them. But when Snape turned to look at him, his eyes were kind, and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"Come tonight," he said.

"But I need to ask Professor McGonagall for help," Harry reminded him.

"Don't come in the evening," he said, shaking his head. "At night. Come around midnight."

He was shocked by his professor's words. He had expected this to be a solitary experience that Snape would hope never to remember again. Of course, he would be lying to himself if he pretended that that was what he wanted.

"Yes, sir," he said. He hesitated, then continued, "Professor Snape?"

"Harry," he said, amused, "I doubt formalities are necessary after last night. In private, you're to call me Severus."

He nodded, then said, "Was last night...well...is it going to happen again?"

"Do you want it to?" Snape was not trying to be seductive or mysterious. He was simply posing a question, and seemed to hold no expectations as far as the answer went.

"Yes," Harry answered. Funny how easy it was to be honest with someone after you had slept with them.

"Then come tonight," was all he would say on the subject. "Have a good day, Harry." And with that he left the boy to change.

Harry was pleasantly surprised at how different Snape-Severus, he should say-was in private. He was no longer the sarcastic, rude Potions professor who lingered around his cauldron and criticized his every move. Though they had not spoken of it, Harry knew that the older man must have some sort of feelings for him, if his behaviour changed so drastically when they were alone. He half expected himself to wake up and find that this was all a strange yet wonderful dream.

-o-

As Harry slipped into Severus' private chambers at midnight, he smiled as the smell of herbal tea reached him. Snape took little notice of him as he set about pouring the drink, and motioned silently for his guest to sit at the wooden dining table with him. Harry drank his tea and wondered vaguely where they stood with one another. He didn't quite know how to act towards Severus anymore. When they had been hateful of each other as a student and a teacher, he had known his place and how to behave. Now, however, he was unsure. He felt it would be impossible to treat him like a teacher, and yet, equally impossible to treat him as he had Ginny or Cho. If that was what Snape even wanted, of course.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said suddenly.

Harry was startled. He had never been asked that sort of question before. His answer was chosen purely because he knew that honesty was the best policy towards Severus; the man usually knew when he was lying, anyways.

"I'm wondering where we stand with one another," he answered. "I don't even know how you feel towards me."

"I know not how you feel about _me_," he pointed out. "Why don't you begin."

Harry sighed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Last night was...very, very good. And not just in the physical way. I felt like I really cared about you. And that's crazy, because until this summer I hated you and everything you had ever done or said to me. But when we started talking over the last few weeks, and I got to know you, I found out that you're nothing like I thought you were."

"What am I like?" he seemed genuinely curious.

"You're quiet," Harry said thoughtfully. "You think a lot more than you speak. You have a lot of little habits that I don't think you've even noticed yourself. When you read and you're really interested, you whisper the words to yourself. When you're thinking hard, you take some of your hair and play with it."

Severus snorted.

"You're also polite," he said. "You're a gentleman, I guess you could say. Holding open doors and stuff. And you're a perfectionist. And you're funny. Maybe a bit sarcastic, but I've figured out that most of what you say isn't supposed to hurt. That's about it. How do you feel towards me?"

He thought that he was pushing his luck, prompting an explanation from Severus, but was willing to risk it.

"I find you incredibly irritating," he said after a sip of his tea. "You are rude, you speak before you think, and your work is generally sloppy. Your handwriting, I might add, is terrible. And yet..." he chuckled. "You're a fascinating person to observe. I find you most attractive, if you must know."

"Since when?" Harry was shocked.

"Your third year, I believe it was, when I caught you in that hallway," he said. "Before then, I had always noticed that you were a handsome, interesting boy. But that night I noticed just how handsome you really were, and how your personality struck me as worthy of my attention. You're very bold, Mr. Potter."

He was unsure of what to say, so drank more of his tea.

"And when did you become attracted to me?" Severus smiled to himself.

"I guess when I started noticing how different you were compared to how I'd always seen you," he responded. "I think I had feelings for you before I even knew that I liked you, if that makes sense. When I saw you, I'd become excited for some reason, and pass it off as nerves. I figured you reminded me of Potions, and that I was nervous of failing and not being able to become an Auror. But when we spent more time together it got harder and harder to make up excuses. And when I told you I liked you last night, I admitted it to myself at the same time."

"Very interesting," he noted. Harry shrugged. "What do you propose we do now?"

"Er...more of what we did last night?" Harry suggested hopefully. Severus smirked.

"I meant, what are we to do with this relationship?" he rephrased. "Shall we do this during the summer, and simply pretend it never happened when the school term begins?"

"That would be hard," Harry said.

"Then do we simply shake hands and part now?" his professor said.

"That's even worst," Harry groaned.

"Then I suppose all that is left is to let this take its course," Severus said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And if it goes into the school year, we shall simply have to take extra precautions."

"But..." Harry was shocked. "You could lose your job if someone finds out. Or if Voldemort looks into your mind and sees your memories of me, you'll be dead."

"I am quite accomplished at Occlumency," he replied lightly. "That part does not worry me. I wouldn't have dreamt of doing any of this if it would have endangered you. As for our relationship being known...I'm certainly not going to be spreading it."

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said quickly.

"If you do, things will be quite a disaster," Severus nodded. "However, I do believe that trusting one's partner is an important part of a relationship? I'm terrible at it myself, and yet I will try to trust you just this once. Please, Harry, keep it to yourself."

"I will."

"And now, I believe you should be getting to bed," he announced, rising from the table.

Harry grinned in excitement and began to walk towards the bedroom.

"In your _own_ bed," Snape said sternly, grabbing his arm to stop him. "Really, now, it'll be the end of us if Dumbledore notices something."

Harry sighed. "Alright."

"And how did your Transfiguration go?"

"It went well," Harry shrugged. "I'm still a bit lost though. I can't do any of the homework without Hermione's notes."

"Bring it tomorrow, and we'll see if I can't be of assistance," he offered. "Now. To bed." He leaned forward and kissed Harry's forehead.

"Do I really have to go?" Harry stuck out his bottom lip sadly. He had no idea how self-disciplined Severus was, but he was willing to experiment a bit. "Please, can't I stay here?" He licked his bottom lip convincingly.

"Very well," Severus seemed close to laughter. "But this is the last time this week. I do swear, teenage boys are so _hormonal._"

Harry laughed and led Severus to bed. He crawled in and scooted over, making room for his companion. Severus eyed him hungrily, tapped his wand on the wall to dim all of the lights, and followed him into the bed.


	7. Understanding

**Chapter 7**

"Pass the pillow," Harry said without removing his eyes from the page he was reading.

Severus sighed, yet passed the pillow anyways. He was deeply absorbed in his book as well.

Harry positioned himself more comfortably on the sofa, arranging himself so that he was curled snugly in a blanket. A few sentences later and he had finished his chapter. He closed the book shut and let it drop to the floor, yawning widely.

"Tired?" asked Severus, finally peeling his eyes from his reading.

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"How many pages do you have left?"

"About a hundred, and then some diagrams."

"And this is for which subject again?" Severus asked, squinting to try and decipher the title on the volume's cover.

"Herbology," he replied. "Neville was helping me, but now he isn't answering any of his letters. You don't think he...?"

"No, I do not," said Severus firmly. "I heard news of him through the order. Most of the Longbottoms have gone into hiding. His grandmother is helping Dumbledore and is therefore staying in Britain, but most of them have gone to Scotland."

Yet again reassured that Severus knew more or less everything that there was to know about anything, he breathed a sigh of contentment and curled into a ball.

"This is relaxing," he said. "It's comfy."

Severus smiled, closing his book. "Is it, now?"

"Yes," he said, smiling back. "And I have to enjoy it while I can. In two weeks...everyone's going to be back from vacation, and we won't be able to do this anymore. What did you tell Dumbledore we were doing?"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore," he reproved, coming to sit next to Harry. "And I told him that I was helping you with your Potions. I didn't mean to lie to him, I might add. I _did _intend on teaching you a thing or two. Which, evidently, has yet to happen."

Harry smirked. "I enjoy doing this. Just sitting here. Reading. Talking to you. Stuff like that."

Severus smiled. "In any case, as for those...students...returning to the castle, I doubt they'll take notice of what we do. As long as you keep it to yourself, I think everything will go well. You will, I hope, do so?"

"Yes," Harry said in an exasperated tone. "For the millionth time. I promise, it'll stay with me. I'm not interested in getting you sacked, or getting expelled."

"Even if something goes wrong and you suddenly hate me?" Severus questioned.

"I'd never hate you," Harry frowned. "But let's just say, for argument's sake, that I did. No, I wouldn't tell anyone. Honestly. I'd never hear the end of it."

"Too true," he muttered. He began to stroke Harry's hair, which received very positive feedback as Harry grinned in appreciation. He chuckled. "If you were a cat, you'd be purring."

"I would," he agreed. He stretched and took Severus' hands in his own, running his fingers across the pale skin. "You have nice hands."

"You have nice eyes," Severus replied, staring into them.

"You have nice lips." Harry was now smiling slyly. He let go of Severus' hand and climbed onto him without warning, straddling his hips.

"Harry, really," he said in exasperation, "that was hardly expected. In any case, you have a nice ass."

Harry blushed and laughed nervously. "So you've been looking?"

"Every day for the past three weeks," he muttered, kissing the boy's neck sensually. Harry moaned and pulled away so that he could better see Severus' face. The man was somewhat flushed with excitement, and was eyeing him as a predator would its prey.

"Well, you have a nice..." Harry cut off, blushing, unable to finish his sentence. He felt it necessary to outdo Severus, but at the same time, he didn't want to go beyond his comfort zone.

"Yes?" Severus knew exactly what he meant, and no doubt wanted to see him squirm.

"Cock," he finally managed to say.

"Harry, please, what a vulgar world," Severus frowned. "I believe the correct term is 'penis'. And I don't understand where your embarrassment comes from. It's been in your mouth. Surely you can name it?"

"Severus!" Harry gasped, though he was right. It was odd, however, for him to speak of these things. This was the first time that they had voiced aloud what they had done almost every night for the last three weeks.

"Harry!" he mimicked. Before Harry could retaliate, he pulled him forward and began to kiss his lips with fervour.

When at last they broke for air, Harry licked his bottom lip.

"I think we should take this to bed," he said huskily.

"Mmm," was Severus' comment as he lifted his lover with ease and made his way to the bedroom. In the semi-darkness he set Harry down onto the soft covers, following close behind. He trailed his fingers down his shirt and began to unbutton it at leisure.

Harry moaned and gripped the man's hair, trying to hurry him. Severus merely licked his collarbone as the shirt finally came off. Casting it aside, he settled his fingers in Harry's mouth, where they were suckled eagerly. In the little light that was available to them Severus saw Harry staring him down seductively, and it encouraged him to remove his fingers and trail them down the boy's torso. It was smooth and bare, a sharp contrast to his own, which was riddled with scars.

He was just about to slide his fingers into the boy's jeans when Harry whimpered and drew back. The young boy felt Severus floating away from him, and before he spoke his lover already seemed to be miles away. He held his breath then let it out slowly.

"I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" Severus' voice was quiet, expressionless.

"This doesn't feel right anymore," he said.

Severus sat back in alarm. He had two choices before him: he could lunge in and use all of his strength to pull the teen back, or he could sit patiently and hope that Harry would make his steady way towards him. Not wanting to scare him off, he settled in between the pillows and waited for an explanation, stroking his lover's knee all the while.

"I don't know, but..." He drifted off and began to search in vain for words that felt right. Gaining confidence from Severus' treatment of him, he cleared his throat and said, "Severus, I'm scared. I'm scared that all of my friends will be disgusted with what I'm doing, that they won't understand. I'm scared I'll be expelled or you'll be fired. I'm scared you're going to hurt me in the end, as stupid and lame as that sounds. I've lost almost everyone by this point. I don't want to lose someone else. And the more I get into this...the harder it'll be to get out."

Severus weighed the words in what he hoped was an unbiased way. He wanted the best for Harry, without tainting the decision with his own needs. "Well, Harry, I don't know what to say. There's the chance of us being caught, yes. If so, the consequences could be horrible. But I am perfectly willing to keep it a secret. And if you do so as well, no one needs to know. As for breaking your heart or something of the sort...really, Harry, I'm an old man. I've no time for such melodramatic, adolescent tomfooleries."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "So you're telling me that old men like you don't go around breaking up with people?"

"If they are wise like me, then yes, that's exactly what I am telling you," Severus smirked. "I am not with you on a whim; I feel a deep, serious connection with you. This isn't based off of dark thoughts at night, butterflies in the stomach, or weak knees at the sight of you. No. This is based on a mutual understanding between us, trust, a desire to get to know you, and the sense of peace and belonging I get from being around you. Harry," he softly wrapped the boy's hands in his own, "I'm not going to hurt you. Whether the others find out or not is affected by you as much as myself, and so I don't have complete control over the situation. But I can control my actions. And so I can guarantee you that I am not about to hurt you in any way."

Slowly, tenderly, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips against Severus'. When he drew back, he smiled and allowed himself to be pulled down as the older man settled down on his back, Harry draped across his chest like a luxurious cloak. He stroked his head, weaving the hair through his fingers, and whispered reassurances to him.

After a while, Harry yawned and began to drift off to sleep.

"No wild, crazy sex?" Severus teased.

"This is just as nice," Harry replied. "If not better."

The night would be a long one filled with light kisses and muttered words of affection. They both prayed that the moon would not go down, and yet when it did, they were both fast asleep anyways.


	8. The Students Return

**Chapter 8**

"Are you ready?" Severus asked as Harry drew forward. The latter had just finished locating the various pieces that made up the entirety of his Hogwarts uniform. With the help of Severus, it had taken him only thirty minutes, easily another half an hour less than it would have on his own. With a few well-thought Accio's and Harry's knack for the spell, his shoes, cloaks, shirts and pants had soon been assembled.

Severus looked Harry over with pride. He then frowned. "Is your hair really always that untidy?"

Harry shrugged and tried to brush it with his finger. The hair relented momentarily, but within seconds had sprung into its usual messy position. Severus sighed and stepped closer to the boy.

"No, let me," he said with the patience of a father trying to teach his son to tie his shoes. He retrieved a comb from Harry's bedside table and began to attack the locks of hair with a determined look on his face. Before long he gave it up as a bad job and sat down on the bed wearily.

"Impossible," he muttered. Harry laughed and tossed the comb back into his trunk.

"Other than that, do I look alright?" he asked. What the students thought of him, of course, he couldn't care less. But Severus' opinion was one that he valued, and he hoped that he had managed to reach the professor's standards.

Severus grunted and eyed him from head to toe. Of course, Harry looked absolutely perfect. Those emerald eyes were sparkling, his black hair was like a dark halo around his now well-tanned face, and the outline of his delicious body was faintly visible beneath his cloak. But he of course couldn't just _say _that. He was Snape, and had a reputation to maintain, even towards his lover.

"Acceptable," he said. Harry's eyebrows shot up and he looked down at Severus' crotch. Severus looked down as well, and to his horror he saw a bulge that was straining against his black pants. Face heating up, he got up and marched to the door.

Harry laughed and shut his trunk. "I think your body's trying to tell me that I'm more than just 'acceptable'."

"Fine," Severus said, "if you _must_ know, you look absolutely delectable. I would shag you right here if I was a tad more foolish than I currently am."

"Why not just say that, then?" Harry sat on the bed to pull on his shoes.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he replied.

"Well," Harry replied, "I think you look great, too. 'Delectable', as you put it."

Severus grunted once again, yet Harry could tell by his face that he was pleased nonetheless. He'd often had the suspicion that Severus had rarely received love or approval during his life. He therefore made a habit of dealing out compliments and words of admiration whenever convenient. Though Severus would brush them off or mock them as 'silly whispers of nothing', Harry knew better.

"Yes, you look wonderful," said Snape as Harry stood again. He took the boy in his arms and placed a chaste kiss on his brow. "How are you feeling about tonight?"

"Nervous," Harry said instantly. "Bloody nervous."

Severus frowned. "There's hardly a need. You'll be occupied by your little classmates. I should be the one who is nervous."

"Why?"

"As the meal is rarely to my liking and the company will be poor, I'll have nothing else to do but stare at you," he smirked. "As such, I believe I'll be in need of a very long, cold shower afterwards."

Harry had a smug look set on his face as he shook his head. "Naughty, naughty. But the feast will be as good as usual. I thought you liked that sort of food."

"I'm far more of a 'fine dining' type, if you must know," Severus sighed. The food prepared here at the castle could hardly be considered fine dining. I've been to the classiest restaurants in Britain, I'll have you know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So you've said. Multiple times."

"Next to those plates, you can imagine that the ones I'll be having tonight can hardly be enjoyed." Severus paused, then, incapable of ignoring it any longer, began to rearrange the boy's tie. "Really, Harry, have you never been taught to do your tie properly?"

Harry let him fix it as he liked; he secretly enjoyed Severus' fretting over his appearance.

"They should be here any moment," Severus announced as he straightened Harry's cloak. Giving him one last examination, he pulled him forward and kissed his lips. Drawing back almost immediately after, he smirked at a thoroughly annoyed Harry.

"Don't be a tease," he protested. "What a way to leave me before they get here. If I didn't know any better I'd think that you _wanted _me to go insane during the feast."

"Me?" Severus' voice dripped with mock surprise. "Am I the type of man who would do such a thing?"

"No, not at all," said Harry sarcastically. Picking up on the tone in his voice, Severus sighed and shook his head.

"Really, Harry, you insult me," he said. "Now, I'm to head down to the Great Hall. You'd best follow in a few minutes; your little friends should be here shortly."

He then left Harry to pick up the clothes they had thrown across the floor in hopes of finding his uniform. Once satisfied that the room was the same as before they had begun their search, he checked his appearance one last time and then headed downstairs. His heart was beating a furious rhythm in his chest, his stomach was twisting, and his palms were sweating. He rubbed these on his pants just before he reached the great oak doors that made up the entrance to Hogwarts. It wasn't long before students began to walk through them, some nervously, some eagerly, and most looking as though they could use a very long nap. Harry suspected that most of them had awoken quite early to catch the Hogwarts Express. He was just about to wave to Dean Thomas when he was nearly tackled to the floor.

"Hermione," he gasped, patting the girl's back. "What was that for?"

She disentangled herself from his arms and ignored those who were now staring at them and chuckling.

"You didn't reply to any of your letters," she hissed.

"Er, well, you see," he stuttered. "I began them, but never managed to finish them."

"While locked up in the castle? What _else _would you have to do?" she demanded. Before waiting for an answer, she grabbed hold of Ron, who was struggling through the crowd. "Tell him, Ron, how we waited for those letters."

"Well, uh, actually," Ron confessed, "it wasn't really that much of a worry, mate. Forget about it."

Harry smiled in gratitude but Hermione shot him a furious look.

"Well, I mean, it did get a little worrying," Ron whimpered at the sight of Hermione's reaction. His ears turned as bright red as his hair. "After all, we didn't know where you were until Dad told us you were at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Hermione took up. "And for all we knew, you could have been _killed_."

"Sorry." Harry truly was apologetic. Between his feelings for Severus and his attempts at improving at Potions, he had constantly forgotten to reply to the letters he received, most of which he had noticed were getting more and more impatient from Hermione's end. "I just had a lot of studying to do with Snape. He's been helping me get up my Potions note."

"Really?" The anger left Hermione's face, only to be replaced with fascination. "Did it help?"

"Loads," said Harry, pleased to see that she had been distracted. "He taught me a whole bunch of new potions, I'll lend you my notes."

"Oh, Harry, would you really?" she gasped. "That would be wonderful."

As they began to walk into the Great Hall, Ron rolling his eyes and Harry barely capable of retaining his laughter, Hermione continued to ramble, "Oh, I mean, I've tried to make loads of potions myself over the summer. NEWTs are coming up and I want to be prepared, you know. But _Professor Snape's_ notes are of course the best source I could hope to get."

She glared at the two as though daring them to contradict her.

"They sure are," Ron agreed hastily. "Here, let's sit here." They took their seats and Hermione quickly became engaged in conversation with Lavender Brown, leaving Harry and Ron to speak.

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asked in an undertone. "I mean, I'm sorry I didn't respond, I wasn't thinking right. But did it really seem like I was dead?"

"No," Ron laughed. "Dad gave us all the news we needed from Dumbledore. We knew you were here the whole time. Hermione's just, well, making it worse than it is."

Harry smiled and looked up at the High Table. Dumbledore was speaking to Flitwick, while Severus seemed to be thinking of something quite serious. His eyes were bent on his plate and he was not speaking to anyone. Before Harry could wonder at this, the door behind him burst open and Professor McGonagall marched through, followed by a train of first year students. Harry knew what would happen next, as he too had been Sorted in his first year: as McGonagall procured a list and began to call names from it, the student in question would come forward, sit on a stool, and put the Sorting Hat atop their heads. The Hat would then tell them which House they belonged to out of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin. But before this began, the conversation in the Hall died, and the Hat ripped open its wide seam of a mouth and began to sing a song. Harry barely heard the tune as he watched Severus, who was staring hard at the floor. Then, slowly, cautiously, the man's eyes trailed to where Harry was sitting, until they were looking at each other directly. Harry felt himself blush, but he held the gaze, letting a bit of a smile decorate his features. Though Severus didn't smile, he continued to look, and even from afar Harry could see the tenderness that was deep within those otherwise cold, black eyes. Harry then caught sight of Dumbledore eyeing him, and blushed deeper and looked towards the first year students. He had no idea what Dumbledore did next, as he refused to look anywhere close to the area where either the Headmaster or Severus was seated. As the Sorting came to an end, the stool was brought away and Dumbledore rose. He spread his arms wide and beamed.

"Another new year at Hogwarts!" he said. "As I must leave soon after the feast, I fear I must bore you all with my ramblings _prior_ to your meal. I hope that you will allow me to take up a few minutes of your time. First, I should like to welcome Professor Grubbly-Plank to our staff. She shall be taking up the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." As the students and professors clapped politely, Harry quickly checked to see Severus' response to this. He knew that the man had always wanted to teach that particular subject. Severus, however, seemed far too interested in his cutlery to pay attention to what was being said.

"Now, before we eat," continued Dumbledore as the applause died down, "I'd like to remind you of a few rules. The Forbidden Forest is, as indicates its name, forbidden to any and all students. No students should be in possession of what has now become a rather long list of magical objects which Mr Filch should like you all to review before heading to Hogsmeade. On that note..."

Harry soon drowned out the speech. It wasn't until Ron snorted that he was interrupted from his reverie. He found this slightly annoying, for he had been enjoying a rather silly fantasy about he and Severus travelling to Australia together. He now began to listen once again.

"Finally, it is my duty to remind you all that Voldemort is now at large." Dumbledore's usually pleasant face was now grave, and his voice was low and deep. "Voldemort has a certain gift for separating those who are closest; those who are far apart to begin with hardly stand a chance. With this being said, I must beg all of you to try and develop closer relationships with all of those around you. And by this, I don't mean those in your House, but those in other Houses as well."

Ron said under his breath, "Fat chance I'll be making friends with any Slytherins. Greasy gits." Others around him muttered their agreement; Harry frowned and chose to ignore the comment.

"With that, I must now ask you all to tuck in," Dumbledore said. They clapped as he sat down, and before long the sound of cheerful conversation filled the room again as food appeared on the tables. As Harry piled all sorts of wonderful things onto his plate, he checked to see how Severus was doing: the man was now in conversation with Professor Sprout, and tossing a bit of salad and chicken around on his plate. He grinned and made a mental note to scold his lover for playing with his food. Ron noticed his grin and asked what was so funny through a mouthful of food.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. He ate and spoke with Dean, Seamus, Ron and Hermione about Voldemort's whereabouts. Though none of them were sure, Seamus seemed convinced that he was abroad.

"He's bound to be recruiting, isn't he?" Seamus asked. "He won't want wizards from only Britain. Mum reckons that this time he'll be going into other countries for followers. She says that this time he'll want to make a full sweep of it."

"Well, I think he'd be overdoing it if he did," Hermione countered. "At least, he would be if he was getting on with it this early. He should worry about Britain and then concentrate on the other areas."

"Don't give him any ideas, Hermione," Ron warned her. Hermione laughed and shook her head.

"I won't be helping You-Know-Who with any of his plans, Ron," she said. "Though I doubt he needs the help. Everyone knows that he's brilliant. Evil, obviously, but very clever."

"Just what we need," Dean sighed.

"Well, whatever he is, I say he's off somewhere," said Seamus. Though Harry spoke little on the subject, he privately agreed with him. Dumbledore had rarely been at the castle during the summer, and Severus had hinted that he was often far away on business with the Order. It seemed logical then that Voldemort was trying to gather followers worldwide. But Harry had already suffered Hermione's wrath for one day, and so for the most part he allowed himself to eat in silence and wonder how Severus was managing.

He had spent most of the summer close by him, and now that they were forced to be apart, it felt painful and unusual. He longed to speak to him, even a word, but knew that that would be too much. It would raise suspicion. He also dreaded his Potions lesson the next day. He had gotten his schedule before everyone else, and knew that he had his lesson with Severus in the morning. As the NEWT classes were far smaller, it would be a class comprised of students from all four Houses. But it wasn't the Slytherins that he feared, it was Severus. For one thing, his lover would have to continue to be rude and unfair to Harry if they wanted to keep this up, or the others would wonder what was going on. He feared that Severus' insults would hurt far more than they had before he'd developed feelings for him. He knew already that it would be difficult to be in close proximity to him and maintain a neutral outwards attitude to him, if not one of downright dislike.

When they had finished dessert and were told by Dumbledore to go to their dormitories, the students rose sleepily. Prefects began to direct the crowds towards their Common Rooms. Hermione and Ron were calling for the first years, Hermione with a tone of authority, Ron with a hint of boredom in his voice.

"Ronald," Hermione snapped, "that's hardly the way that you should be acting."

Ron rolled his eyes towards Harry, who suppressed a grin a waved as they became consumed by the crowd. Harry slipped away from the majority of them and went into the Entrance Hall, where only a few of the older students were talking quietly and making their way to their Common Rooms. Harry was just about to follow their example when he heard a noise behind him. Turning sharply, hand around his wand, he caught sight of Severus standing far from the door. Cocking a brow, he caught his eye and mouthed, "What?"

Severus inclined his head ever so slightly to the dungeons. Catching on, Harry went casually in that direction, trying his best to reach the older man before the students began to exit the Great Hall. He descended the staircase just as voices reached his ear. Severus was backing into a narrow hallway, and so Harry followed him as fast as he could. They were nearly in total darkness, and before he could say anything Severus put a finger over his lips. It was fortunate that he had, for Slytherins were now beginning to file down the stairs, laughing and chattering. They all passed the hallway and made instead for a room much further away from the stairs. As the level of noise increased considerably, Severus leaned so close to Harry that their noses were almost touching.

"I'm going to give you a detention tomorrow," he whispered. Harry barely heard what he said, but nodded eagerly in agreement.

Severus paused, then continued, "Whatever I say in class, forgive me. It's necessary that my behaviour is as unchanged as possible. How was your night?"

"It was alright," Harry muttered. "I missed you."

"I noticed," Severus smirked. "You stare quite a lot, Harry."

"And _you_ were playing with your food," he replied. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, he could make out Severus' gleaming eyes and the outline of his hair and mouth.

"I was a bit occupied, you could say."

"With what?" He gasped as Severus took his hand and led it to the front of his trousers, where a tell-tale bump was tenting the material.

"Someone missed me," Harry teased.

Severus did not reply, but rather took hold of the boy's face and kissed his lips roughly. Before long his tongue slithered across Harry's bottom lip and he was granted entry to his student's mouth. Their tongues brushed against each other sensually, and before long Harry suspected that he had the same problem below as Severus did.

When they broke apart, panting, they stopped to listen. The hallway was still filled with conversation, though it was further away.

"You should go," said Severus.

"I'll miss you," was the answer.

"I will miss you far more, I assure you," Severus chuckled. He planted a kiss on the boy's head then stepped back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As Harry returned to the Common Room, he hardly felt that he was walking. Rather, he suspected that he was floating, so light was his head. The only thing weighing him down was the anxiety that he felt regarding the next day. Otherwise, he was as light as a feather in his happiness.


	9. Work and Play

**Chapter 9**

Wow, guys. Before I begin, I'd like to thank all of you for the number of hits I've received. In just under 24 hours, I had 1084 hits on this story alone. That's just incredible. I never dreamed that I'd receive this sort of response for this story. Thank you so much. The story should run for at least another 10 chapters or so, if not more. Please review with any and all feedback to let me know if you're enjoying the story or not. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter, which pretty much earns the M rating for the story. If you enjoy this chapter, you'll probably enjoy my other graphic and M rated stories. These are one-shots and can be found on my profile. Take good care.

* * *

As Harry stepped into the Potions classroom, he braced himself mentally for what he expected would be a long, gruelling lesson. He chose a seat next to Hermione, who had already set out her quills and textbook.

"You were almost late," she commented.

"Yeah, I, er, forgot my book and had to double back to get it," he lied. She pursed her lips and said nothing, choosing instead to select a roll of parchment from her bag. Grateful for this, Harry did the same, reflecting on how long it had taken him to do so much as go down to the dungeons. He truly had been dreading this class.

When Severus swept formidably into the room, the door closing behind him, Harry had a number of what felt like elephants rampaging through his stomach. It was cliché, but it was the truth: the man looked as wonderful as always. His black eyes were gleaming like hot coals, his dark hair crept down to his shoulders, and he was entirely covered by his cloak. It was a sight that Harry enjoyed. He tried to catch his eye, and almost feared that Severus would deny him this small pleasure; but to Harry's relief, as Severus set up his things and ignored the murmur of conversation in the room, he looked up and stared directly at his lover. Harry let a smile creep onto his face, and the shadow of a grin was quite evident on his professor's face. He quickly looked away and went to stand in front of the classroom.

"You have now entered what I suspect will be one of the most difficult classes with which you shall have to deal this school year," he said in a tone that was hardly above a whisper. Harry found it difficult to keep a neutral expression as this velvety, deep voice rolled over him. This was the voice with which Severus told him how handsome he was, with which he moaned in Harry's ear during those sweet nights spent in his bedroom. Yes, this would be a long class indeed. "The skills that you shall learn in this classroom are essential to a large number of careers. While I am forced to commend you all on having taken it, be warned: my standards are as high as ever. If you have ever found yourself cursing my expectations for perfection, you shall not find this class to be much better. I look for the finest of work from my NEWT students, and if I am disappointed, you shall face the consequences." Pausing momentarily, he took out his wand and flicked it. Instructions appeared on the blackboard behind him.

"Lux Lucis," he spoke louder than before, now pacing between the desks, "is a rather tricky potion. Of course, it has many uses. I don't suppose I could hope that one of you might know them?"

Hermione's hand shot up as expected. As Severus turned to face her, Harry's mind raced, and then he too put up his hand. It had perhaps been a rash decision: if they were searching for a way to avoid suspicion, this might not be the best way to do it. Harry never had the answers for questions in Potions class. And yet, equally important to him as keeping this relationship secret, was impressing Severus and showing him that those hours spent teaching him Potions were not in vain.

"Potter," he said. His face showed a momentary look of surprise, and he was not alone: many of his classmates were eyeing him in shock. Hermione actually turned around in her seat, hand still up, and looked at him incredulously. "Do you mean to answer a question, or have you simply realized that you were in the wrong classroom, as I suspect?"

"No, I've got an answer." He tried his best to ignore the insult. He knew, of course, that Severus meant nothing by it. "Lux Lucis can be put into a container and used to light up most of the space around the person carrying it. It's useful because you can use your wand for other things, which is hard with the Lumos spell, and it's easy to shut off. And," he tried to remember any other information, then finished lamely, "yeah."

"'Yeah' indeed, Potter," Severus drawled. "You are surprisingly correct, though I must ask Ms. Granger not to whisper you the answers. I find it unlikely that you could have thought it up yourself."

Hermione blushed angrily and turned back in her seat, clearly stung. As Severus went on to repeat what Harry had just said, the boy in question whispered, "Sorry."

"It's not you," she gave him a small smile. "I'm glad you knew it. Looks like those lessons came in handy."

They did indeed come in handy when they were asked to brew the potion. Harry's Lux Lucis was as good as he could have hoped. Though Severus hung by his cauldron, insulting most everything he did and questioning his decision to take the class, Harry still managed to smile at him when the others were distracted by some sort of explosion that was usually followed by a string of curses.

"Lux Lucis," said Severus as the class neared its end, "is highly explosive, as most of you have come to discover." He looked pointedly at Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein, who were both sporting nasty burns on their arms. "Put your attempts in one of the flasks and leave it on my desk for grading. Homework is three feet of parchment for Monday on the properties of Lux Lucis."

Ignoring the groans of his students, Severus sat at his desk and began to rummage through his drawers. Harry packed his things and put his potion carefully into a flask. He was just about to wave his wand and make the potion in his cauldron disappear when Severus caught his attention and shook his head in a way that was nearly imperceptible. Harry had caught it, however, and chose to trust him. He made his way towards Severus' desk and was nearly there when he felt something shatter in his hand: looking down, he saw his Lux Lucis dripping onto the floor. In a second Severus had risen from his chair and was cleaning the mess with a few whips of his wand. There was silence as his classmates stared.

"Potter," the Potions Master hissed, "you will stay after class. The rest of you, get out of my sight."

The others took his advice and quickly packed up their things, dropped off their potions, and left. Hermione cast Harry a sympathetic look, and he put on a brave smile as she hurried out of the classroom. When they were alone, Harry looked at Severus, then burst out laughing.

"Is that why you told me not to get rid of the potion?" he asked.

"Indeed," Severus replied. He appeared to be deeply amused. "Kindly put it in a new flask and bring it here to be graded."

Harry poured the liquid into a flask for the second time and brought it to his professor for inspection. Severus examined it closely, then said, "Much better. A solid 'Exceeds Expectations', Harry."

Harry stared. "Just because you're bedding me doesn't mean you have to pass me."

Severus snorted. "Hardly. Look at the others' attempts."

Harry immediately understood the point that he was trying to make. While the potion was supposed to be a bright gold, most of the potions on the desk ranged from purple to green. Only Hermione's came close: it was a deep shade of yellow.

Harry looked up in amazement.

"I told you that my tutoring would assist you," Severus said. He seemed incapable of retaining a hint of pride from his voice.

"Then you'll help me with my homework tonight?" Harry asked. "Honestly, I've got loads due in Transfiguration already. I even have something to do in Charms."

"Of course," said Severus. "What do you have next?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," was the reply.

Severus cared not to comment; rather, he shook his head and sighed. Harry knew that Severus thought that the class was a waste of his time, but Harry's defence was that Voldemort might be using magical creatures such as werewolves. Severus could not counter that argument, and so he had eased off of the subject.

"You'll come tonight for your detention, then?" he said.

"I'll be here at seven," Harry assured him. He went to his station and cleared his cauldron, then tossed his books into his bag.

"Really, Harry, what a way to carry about your things," Severus muttered. He suddenly paused and put up his finger. Footsteps could be heard approaching. Harry panicked, but before he could think of a plan, Severus barked, "Potter, that's the last time you blow up my classroom! The very last! Do I make myself clear?"

The footsteps stalled, then began to head hurriedly in the direction from which they had come. It was not until he could hear them no longer that Harry laughed: Severus was very good at acting, it seemed.

"Anyways," he continued their conversation, "it's a bit of organized chaos, really. The bag is messy but I know where everything is."

Severus sighed and began to ruffle through his papers. "It's not difficult, a bit of order."

Harry ignored him and went to his side. "I'll see you after dinner then?"

"What's that?" Severus was distracted by the essay he was reading. Pulling away, he looked at his student and said, "Oh, right, yes. You'd best come directly here."

"Fair enough." Harry leaned down and kissed Severus on the cheek. "Bye, then."

Severus smiled in response, and Harry left to find Ron and Hermione. He was greatly anticipating the hours after dinner.

-o-

Harry eventually managed to convince Hermione and Ron not to go to Dumbledore to complain about his detention. Hermione repeated to Ron several times what had occurred in detail, and Ron kept shaking his head and saying, "Bloody git."

He was grateful for his friends' support, he thought as he hurried to the dungeons, and yet they were overreacting. Lux Lucis was highly explosive, as Severus had said, and so Harry had told them that he had been gripping the flask much tighter than necessary. He told them that he could have seriously injured someone if he had made the potion correctly, and so he was fortunate that Severus hadn't reported him to Dumbledore. Of course, he didn't tell them that in actuality he suspected that Severus had used some sort of spell to disable the volatile effects, but they didn't need to know that. In the end, they relented, and allowed him to go.

"I'm sorry I'm late," said Harry as he hurried into the classroom. "My friends were holding me up, something about you being an abusive git."

Severus smirked. "The downfalls of keeping friends. I myself have never much gotten into the habit."

"They come in handy," Harry argued. Severus merely chortled and leaned back into his chair. Harry noticed the bags under his eyes and frowned. "It's the first day and you look like you're ready to pass out. I didn't even see you at dinner."

"I was indulging myself in a particularly fascinating essay," he said, perusing his pile of parchments. "I asked for my dinner to be delivered to me." He unfolded one of the parchments and read, "'The Idling Solution causes things to idle. Idle means to stay still. Therefore, the Idling Solution causes things to stay still.' My OWL class, no less." He tossed the page onto his desk and yawned. Harry sniggered.

"Looks like you have some work to do," he observed.

Severus nodded in weary agreement. "Oh, I do. Though your class is hardly any better: those potions this morning were _atrocious._ I swear, half of them I won't even look at. They'll be getting a well-deserved 'T'."

"'T' really exists?" Harry was surprised. He'd only heard it mentioned once by Fred and George, and thought that they had been joking. "You can actually score 'Troll' on something?"

"You can in Potions," Severus leered.

Harry smiled. "You're evil."

Severus seemed not to mind the comment, and proceeded to put away his various things. When he was finished, he rose from his chair and stretched.

"Come," he said, opening the door for Harry. "We're off to my private chambers."

"You make it sound so mysterious," Harry taunted.

"Yes, I do make the effort," said Severus mildly as Harry passed by him.

They slipped into his chambers before anyone could see them, and Harry sunk into the couch. "What a day."

"How was it?" Severus asked, heading to the kitchen to make them a pot of tea.

"My classes were good," he answered. "But Potions was brutal."

"Why, thank you," said Severus sarcastically. Harry snorted.

"Not like _that_," he said. "Just that, well, this was my first day where I was forced to be with you and not say anything to you. It was weird. And then we were in class and you had to be rude to me. I know you didn't mean it, but it was my first time, so that was hard."

"You'll get used to it before long," Severus assured him. "Did you bring that homework?"

"We'll do it tomorrow," Harry replied.

There was silence until Severus returned with two cups of tea. Setting them down on the coffee table and sitting next to Harry, he seemed irritated.

"It's your first day back," he reproved, "and you've already collected yourself quite the pile of homework. It's ridiculous not to get started on it early."

"I wanted to spend time with you," Harry said sadly. Severus gave him a doubtful look. "Really, I did."

"I'm sure," he said, drinking his tea. "Though I don't see how my helping you with your homework could not be considered as spending time with one another."

Harry's eyes gleamed as he said, "I thought we could do something a bit more physical."

Severus stared at him with sheer exasperation. "Is that all that teenage boys think of?"

"As if you don't." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Me? Hardly," said Severus. "I've far better thoughts with which to occupy my mind. Making potions for the Hospital Wing, for example. Defeating the Dark Lord. Attempting to force something into your thick heads."

"I've got somewhere else that you could force something into." Harry winked.

"Oh do you now?" As far as Severus' tone went, they could have been discussing the weather. Harry recognized this as a challenge and drew closer to the man.

"I do," he said, his voice having lowered itself by several octaves. He placed his hand on Severus' knee and began to trace circles. "Can you imagine where?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said, continuing to sip at his tea. He hoped that Harry hadn't noticed the quickening of his pulse. The boy was an absolute brat.

"Let me show you," said Harry. He rose and went to stand before Severus. He then took his hands and made to lift him off the couch. The man could, of course, hardly resist: it was rare that Harry became seductive like this. He was usually far too shy to put on any type of show, and he therefore planned on enjoying this as much as possible. He allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, anticipating the events to come.

Harry shut the door and eyed the bed. Taking the hint, Severus climbed into it, Harry close behind him. The older man sprawled out leisurely, head propped up on a number of green pillows. Harry put his knees on either side of him, straddling his hips. He moved slowly in a circular motion, arse pressing into the man's crotch area. Before Severus could help it a moan escaped his lips, which only helped to raise Harry's confidence. He leaned forward and their lips came into contact. What began as soft and tender soon turned to rough and needy as their tongues became entwined. Harry tasted herbal tea, beneath which were Severus' usual tastes: sharp, strong and masculine. That, coupled with his scent, threatened to overwhelm him entirely, just as the combination did every time they enjoyed each other. He pulled away and let himself toy with Severus' hair for a while, revelling in the feel of it. Noticing that they were both wearing far too many clothes, he pulled off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. His pants and shirt followed suite, as did Severus' garments. Much more satisfied, he took his position once again and began to lick at his lover's chest, taking one of the erect nipples into his mouth. He sucked and bit before pulling back and blowing teasingly.

"Harry," Severus groaned in warning. Harry laughed and continued to travel further below. He knew that the man was quite hard: his erection had been rubbing into his stomach as he had worked on his chest. Now that it was inches away from his face, he couldn't stop himself from wrapping a hand around it. Severus moaned in surprise, and such noises continued as Harry's hand flew up and down the shaft. Before long his tongue had joined in, and he was licking at the head of Severus' penis eagerly. He then removed his hand and took the entire length into his mouth, humming as he began to suck. The vibrations made the sensation better than ever, and Harry enjoyed how much power he had over his professor. How easy it was to make the usually controlled and emotionless man fall apart and practically beg for sexual release.

But Harry wasn't that merciful. After a few quick licks—up and down his erection, twisting around the side sensually—he backed away and smirked at Severus' groans of protest. Considerably aroused himself, Harry took Severus' hand and brushed it across his own hot flesh. Understanding instantly, he took no time to tease: the Potions professor had his mouth around Harry's penis in a matter of seconds. His head was bobbing up and down, up and down, up and down...the motion had Harry leaning back and panting wildly, feeling the fiery passion consume him almost entirely. He could do this the entire day. How good it felt, the warm wetness touching those sensitive spots in ways that he couldn't imagine anyone else being capable of achieving. Dangerously close to climax, Harry asked shakily that Severus stop. The man complied and began instead to suckle at Harry's neck, a spot that he knew was sensitive. Experience proved invaluable as Harry gasped and then whimpered, clutching at his hair as though it was a bit of driftwood in an ocean in which he was drowning. For that was how he felt: as though he was drowning, but slowly and wonderfully, into a sea that he had been waiting to dive into all day.

"I want you," Harry began before Severus sucked on his earlobe. He lost his voice and then cleared his throat and started again, "I want you inside of me. I want—" He moaned for a good, long time as Severus kissed his lips and teased his nipples with his fingers. Harry broke off and seemed near tears. "Please, Severus, _please_..."

Severus, being a mere mortal, was forced to comply. It was beyond his power to resist. With a flick of his wand his fingers were properly lubricated, and before Harry could position himself properly, they were already being shoved into his tight hole. Harry was on all fours, his forehead pressed against the bed frame, making needy noises that drove Severus nearly to breaking point. Harry was barely prepared before Severus grasped his hips and eased himself into the hole, basking in the sweet sounds that were coming from the boy's lips. He himself was not silent, though his noises were far deeper and more of grunts. As he began to push himself into Harry, he was intent on going slowly, but that plan was replaced by one of going deeper, harder, faster, rougher, as his body demanded a climax. Harry seemed in no way to want to go against this.

"Oh, harder, oh fuck," he was now rambling helplessly. "Oh, _fuck_, oh, I'm going to...yes, yes, _yes_."

Severus plunged in a final time and Harry squirted onto the bed, biting down hard on the sheets to silence the scream that was threatening to rip out of his throat. Severus heard it, however, and it proved to be too much for him: he came inside Harry, filling him with hot seed before collapsing onto the bed.

Harry remained in the same position as he caught his breath, and then crawled next to Severus minutes later. They were silent as they panted, each enjoying their post-orgasm pleasure. After a while, Harry whispered his lover's name.

"Yes?" Severus asked sleepily.

"I have to tell you something," Harry said nervously.

"Mm?" Severus was now stroking the boy's hair.

"I think..." Harry took a deep breath and then said slowly, "I think I'm in love with you."

Severus continued to stroke him, and muttered, "I love you far, far more."

"I doubt that," Harry chuckled.

Severus turned onto his side, arm wrapped tightly around him. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your dormitory?"

Harry shook his head. "Let me stay here for a few more minutes."

Sleep now taking a serious hold of him, Severus' eyes shut and he let himself be swept away by his dreams.

"I love you, Harry," he whispered against the boy's brow. He then fell into a deep, restful sleep.


	10. Confessions

**Chapter 10**

"Why were you so late last night?" Hermione asked the moment Harry sat down for breakfast. Stunned, he looked at Ron, who was very intent on his eggs.

"I wasn't late," he lied. "Ron, was I late?"

Ron looked up momentarily, hesitated, then said, "No. He came him in just as we went to bed." Hermione's eyebrows shot up but she made no further comment, and began instead to look over her Potions essay. Harry shot Ron a grateful look and received a knowing smile in return.

They ate their meal quickly and set off to Transfiguration. Hermione had Herbology at that time and so she took off towards the grounds as Harry and Ron rushed off to their own class. As they entered they saw that Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk, hands clasped before her. The room was quite full. Most of the students seemed to be nodding off already, and Harry could relate. He had woken up at three in the morning, kissed Severus goodbye, and then hurried back to his dormitory. The rest of the night had been spent attempting to fall asleep in his own bed without his lover next to him, something he had found very difficult.

"Wands away, please, wands away," said McGonagall as she rose from her seat. The students followed her directions and pulled out pieces of parchment and quills. "Today we shall be taking notes. I want all of you to have a good, steady grasp of the theory before we attempt any sort of transfigurations on ourselves."

Harry agreed strongly with this idea, and spent the rest of the class copying notes from the blackboard. Halfway through the lesson, he received a note from Ron that read,

_Why were you so late last night? It had to be at least 1 before you got in._

Harry scribbled back his response, indicating that it had actually been 3 in the morning. He was in a dilemma. He would love nothing more than to share his secret with Ron and have at least one person to confide in. On the other hand, Ron hated Severus, and Harry doubted that he would take the information well. He therefore said that he had gone to the Owlery after his detention to write a letter and that he had fallen asleep there. Ron did not reply, and so Harry suspected that his friend had no doubts regarding his story. He felt guilty lying to both Hermione and Ron, and yet he wished to deserve Severus' trust.

He cast the doubt from his mind as they headed to Charms. The class was relatively uneventful: before practicing anything knew, they were to review what they had learned in previous years, so they spent most of the class practicing basic spells. Harry was just showing Ron how to properly hold his wand when attempting to use Accio when Hermione called him to her desk.

"Harry," she said, looking through her bag, "I think I've gone and lost your notes like an idiot. The ones you got from Professor Snape. I've been searching all day and I can't find them."

"It's alright," he replied. "I'll just ask him for new ones."

"Don't you think he'd be a bit upset with you?" Her tone was full of surprise. "I mean, he's not very pleased with you as it is."

"He told me to tell him if I needed any other notes," he lied. "I'll ask him after class. Really, Hermione, don't worry about it."

Hermione nodded in agreement, though she still had a hesitant look on her face. Regardless, she put her bag aside and began to practice with them. At the end of the lesson, Flitwick refrained from giving them homework, and so they went to Potions in high spirits. As Harry walked into the classroom and took his seat, the familiar feeling of dread mixed with excitement washed over him. He barely had time to prepare his notes, however, before Severus burst into the classroom. Without sparing his students a look, he flicked his wand and sat at his desk. As usual, their directions appeared on the blackboard.

"Today," he said, "we shall be doing something that the Headmaster _insists_ on getting done sometime this next month. You shall all approach my desk individually and explain to me your reasons for being in this class. The Headmaster finds it important that the curriculum be tailored to your specific needs." The look on his face showed that he was in disagreement with this theory. "You shall come in the order that you are seated." He looked pointedly at Michael Corner, who jumped up and approached the sour professor.

"Oh, this should be interesting!" Hermione said eagerly. She was just about to launch into a detailed explanation of her own reasons for taking the class when Severus called, "Well, don't just sit there and stare. Turn to page 97 and follow the instructions on the blackboard."

Over the noise caused by brewing potions and general conversation, Harry couldn't make out what Severus was saying to Michael Corner. He noticed, however, that he seemed to be extremely bored by the conversation, jotting down things and nodding wearily. Harry flipped to page 97 and was pleased to see that the potion was one that he and Severus had already done together. He also remembered that the ingredients could be added at one's leisure as long as they were in the proper order. He imagined that Severus had chosen this potion so that the students' work would not be ruined as they walked away from their cauldrons to speak with him.

The class passed slowly as Harry eagerly waited for his turn to speak to Severus. In the meantime, Hermione kept him occupied with a constant flow of conversation. She had many things to say about her schedule, and informed him on most of the details. Harry personally thought that Severus would quickly become tired of her rambling. When at last his name was called in a detached manner, he prevented himself from running straight to the desk. Rather, he sent Hermione a grimace and slowly made his way to Severus, who was concentrating on the roll of parchment before him.

"Right, Potter," he said loudly, "is there anyreason why you wanted to take this class other than to make my semester particularly nasty?"

"Yes, sir," he said in the same carrying tone. Once they were satisfied that the other students were not paying attention to their conversation, he added in a lower voice, "I've got no homework in Charms."

"Good," Severus said. "Bring your things to my chambers tonight and I'll help you with your Transfiguration and Potions."

"And Runes?" Harry asked hopefully.

Severus frowned and began to jot things down onto the parchment. "Runes? Whatever in the world did you take _Runes_ for?"

"I thought it might be interesting," Harry shrugged. "I told you I took it last week."

"I thought you had said Defence Against the Dark Arts," he replied.

"I have that too," said Harry, "but not until tomorrow."

"Right, right, I knew that," Severus muttered. Scanning over what he had written, he said, "Well, Potter, I think you'd best take remedial potions." His voice could be heard by most of the students and several of them sniggered. Severus cast him an apologetic look which was fortunately hidden from the others, given that Harry was standing directly before him. "You will come to me this evening and I'll see if I can't teach you something or other."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He was just about to walk away when Severus tapped his desk. He looked back, and saw the man mouth the words, "I love you." His heart swelled and he grinned before arranging his features into those of someone rather upset and walked back to his desk. Luckily for him, Hermione was next in line to speak to Severus, and so he had a few moments to compose himself. Harry rarely heard Severus say that he loved him, though he knew it anyways. Still, it was nice to hear it once in a while. And for Severus to say it right in the middle of the classroom touched him deeper than Severus probably knew. Harry was therefore in an excellent mood as he began to stir his potion.

-o-

Their schedule for the following months was such that they managed to spend ample time together. Harry would go to Severus for remedial potions every Tuesday, Friday and Sunday. He would also receive a detention from Severus at least once every two weeks, and when they didn't have the possibility of seeing each other at night they would meet just before Harry left for his dormitory and exchange a quick but tender kiss. Harry feared that Hermione and Ron were beginning to be suspicious. This was confirmed when they sat together in the Common Room after dinner. It was a Thursday, and to Harry's disappointment he hadn't gotten a detention for the night, so he was forced to finish his homework without Severus' help.

"Harry," Hermione began after a hesitant look at Ron, "you've been spending a lot of time with Professor Snape lately."

"Hm?" Though his pulse quickened considerably and his stomach lurched, he attempted to calm himself and act as though he was thoroughly unconcerned with what she had to say.

"We were just wondering if you didn't find it a bit odd," she continued. "I mean really, half of those detentions are completely preposterous. Don't you think you had better go to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Hermione," said Harry, setting down his quill. "Honestly, I think Dumbledore has got better things to do than worry about detentions. Besides, it just seems like I get a lot of them because I'm usually there for remedial potions."

"You don't think that giving you a detention for handing him homework with spilt coffee on it is a bit much?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "He's looking out for my future. I can't go and give my boss papers with stains all over them."

"He has a point," said Ron. "Once Dad accidentally gave Fudge some paperwork with chocolate mousse all over it. He didn't even notice because he was in a rush that morning. Dad thought that Fudge was going to fire him: it slopped down from the page onto his tie."

Harry laughed along with Ron, and even Hermione permitted herself a grin. She still, however, would not completely abandon the subject.

"If you say so," she sighed. "I just think he's gone one step too far this year."

"It's Harry's second-last year," said Ron. "Snape's got to get in all of the torture he can, doesn't he? After next year he won't be able to anymore."

Harry couldn't help but hope otherwise. Would this relationship work out well enough that he would, perhaps, be in Severus' presence long after he was finished with school? He could always get a teaching position, after all. Then he would be capable of spending ample time with his lover...or perhaps, by that point, his _husband_...

He was brought back from his reverie when he noticed that Hermione was speaking to him. He asked her apologetically to repeat what she had been saying, and though she gave an exasperated sigh, she said:

"Harry, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you _liked_ spending time with him. Which, obviously, I've no problem with, given that he's an amazing wizard. You're going to learn a whole lot from him if you're in his presence. But all the same, I thought you hated Professor Snape."

"I do," he said quickly. "It's just that, really, it doesn't bother me. Like you said, I'll be able to learn loads. And it's no secret that I'm probably the worst student in our year at Potions. Maybe with all of this extra tutoring I'll be able to do well enough to become an Auror."

Hermione's face was still filled with doubt, but she chose to hold her tongue and continue to work on her essay. Harry did likewise, but his head was stirring with possibilities. Hermione, he realized, would understand. If he were to tell Ron, things probably wouldn't go well. Ron had a tendency of blowing up before fully understanding what was being told to him, and they had gotten into more than one fight in the past. Hermione, on the other hand, would deal with the situation rationally. He couldn't see her letting small things get in the way, such as the fact that Severus was his teacher. He was resolved, therefore, on at least letting her know that they had feelings for each other. He was also relieved by the fact that Hermione had never told anybody else his secrets: he knew that she would keep this one quite close. With all of this in mind, as Ron went off to the boy's dormitory to talk to Neville about one of their classes, Harry moved to a chair closer to Hermione.

"Hermione," he said in a low voice, "I need to tell you something." His heart swelled with appreciation as Hermione put aside her beloved homework and gave him her full attention.

"Does this involve Professor Snape?" Her face showed that she already knew the answer.

"Yeah, yeah it does," he replied. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around them, then continued, "It's like this. When I got here for the summer holiday, I had to take tutoring lessons with him, right? Well I found out that, honestly, he's not that bad at all. In private he's actually really funny, and polite, interesting. And then I realised that I..." He trailed off and tried to summon the courage to spit out the words. "I had feelings for him."

Though Hermione's eyes widened she remained silent, studying his face carefully.

"So I started trying to spend more time with him," he said. "Until eventually he got suspicious and asked what I was playing at. It turned out that he had already found out that I had feelings for him; I guess it was pretty obvious. He told me that he liked me too, and, uh, well. We've been together since."

Hermione sat back in her chair, no doubt processing the information. At last she said quietly, cautiously, "Harry, are you sure you like him? I mean, this could easily be infatuation that you're dealing with."

"No, I'm pretty sure this is the real thing," he answered. "And he thinks so too. Otherwise, I don't think he'd risk his job and my future at this school."

"True," Hermione agreed. "Well, Harry, to be honest, I'm not so surprised. The thought came to me a while ago, but I figured that it was impossible." She smiled. "I guess I was wrong. Have you told Ron?"

"No, and please Hermione, don't tell him," he pleaded. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Obviously," she laughed. "I'm not about to go running down the halls screaming it. But Harry, I'm worried. You're not an idiot, so I'm sure that you've realised by now that Professor Snape is our teacher, and if anyone found out, he could lose his job."

"Wait, wait," Harry cut her off. "You mean you don't care? You're not freaked out, or about to report me to Dumbledore?"

"Hardly," she said. "You're acting as if I didn't already suspect it. Besides, I've always said that Professor Snape wasn't as bad as we made him out to be. And if you had to like someone, well, I'd rather it be him. At least he has brains and some sense. Not to mention he's older and therefore much more mature than people our age. No, it doesn't bother me. As for reporting you, I'm not that cruel. If he was brutally raping you it would be a different matter, but if it's consensual and it's making you happy, I really have no reason to do anything about it."

"Thank you so, so much." He breathed a long sigh of relief and sunk into his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. "You're the first person I've told, and I was so worried you would think I'm nuts. But I had to tell someone, and I figured you'd be the one most likely not to kill me or him."

"I can promise you that I won't be killing anyone," she giggled. "Though I really think you should tell Ron."

Harry frowned. "I don't think Ron would be half as accepting about it as you're being."

"He would over time," she reasoned. "The longer you don't tell him, the more hurt he'll be when he finds out. He'll feel betrayed that you kept something this big from him."

"I just don't want too many people to find out," Harry admitted. "Like you said, there's a lot on the line here. And Severus is trusting me not to tell anyone."

"Well, it's up to you." Hermione rose from her chair, stretched, and began to pile her things back into her bag. "I'm glad now that I know why he's been giving you all those detentions. At least now I won't worry about you getting in trouble every single Potions class. But I suggest telling Ron, at least. Though I don't know how he'll take the idea of you being with another man."

"Er, I don't think I'm gay." He coloured slightly as he spoke. "I've never liked men before, other than this one."

Hermione laughed and kissed his cheek goodnight. "Well, it doesn't make a difference to me, but Ron might have something to say about it. Regardless, I'm convinced that he should know at some point. Goodnight, Harry."

He bid her goodnight and turned to his essay, flooded with happiness. Hermione was the first person that he had ever told about this relationship, and she had reacted in a very positive way. With this triumph under his belt, he reflected on what she had said. He really should tell Ron.


	11. Betrayal of Trust

**Chapter 11**

Hi there everyone. Here's another chapter for, I hope, your enjoyment. Thank you so very much for all of the wonderful reviews. Really, you all flatter me so much! I would just like to ask a quick favour. If any of you found this story by means of my trailer on YouTube, would you be so kind as to let me know? I'm just interested in knowing how many hits it generates. Again, thank you all so much for your unlimited kindness: it is very much appreciated, as is any and all feedback. Even just a review telling me to update or that you love the Snarry ship is welcomed. Please everyone, take good care of yourselves, and have a pleasant day.

* * *

Harry didn't need Hermione's constant looks throughout the day. Her silent reminders were not necessary by any means: he knew all too well that he had to tell Ron the truth. This was made difficult, however, by the conversation he had with Severus during one of his remedial Potions sessions.

"The Winter vacation is coming soon," the man said as they completed Harry's homework. "You will be staying here, I hope?"

Harry nodded. "I just need to break the news to Ron and Hermione."

"You haven't told them yet?" asked Severus, surprised. "Why, you flatter me, Harry."

"I do?" He attempted to keep the guilt out of his eyes.

"Yes," Severus replied. "I didn't think that you would keep your promise to me. Thank you." He leaned forward and kissed Harry softly. Though the boy smiled as they pulled back, his insides were squirming. He had told Hermione, and worse, he had lied to the one person that he knew would never lie to him. Telling Ron would certainly not improve matters. Hermione, however, seemed to think otherwise.

"Just get it off your chest," she whispered to him later that night. "Really, Harry, you'll feel so much better."

"I don't know if I can, Hermione. You see—" He was cut off suddenly as she cleared her throat loudly. Looking behind him, he smiled at Ron, who was just entering the room.

"_Tell him,_" Hermione hissed. Raising her voice, she greeted the newcomer in a way that Harry personally thought was far too enthusiastic. "Oh, hello, Ron!"

"Er, hi," he said, taking a seat next to her. He eyed both of them apprehensively, as though he suspected that he was in deep trouble. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong? No, not at all," she said brightly. "We were just thinking of something that Harry's been meaning to tell you." She narrowed her eyes and stared at the boy in question. "Weren't we, Harry?"

"Er, yeah, we were," he agreed. "See, Ron, the thing is. Er, well." He looked at Hermione helplessly.

"Oh, for Heavens' sake," she said in exasperation. "Ron, Harry's seeing Professor Snape."

Silence reigned, until Ron said, "What, like your visions? The ones from You-Know-Who?"

"No, not seeing like that," she snapped. "Seeing like...like...your sister and Dean Thomas, for example."

"Wait," Ron gasped, "Ginny's going out with Dean? Wait, wait. _Harry's_ going out with..."

He trailed off and stared at his friend, mouth half open.

"Snape, yes," Hermione supplied. She was beaming at the pair of them. "So you see, Ron, this is why Harry's been spending so much time with him."

"You're dating Snape?" Ron whimpered, paying no attention to Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Right, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Yeah, I am."

Ron shook his head slowly as though he couldn't quite understand. Sitting back in his chair, he seemed to be trying to make sense of the matter. "Snape. You and Snape."

"Yes, him and Snape," Hermione repeated, trying to save what she seemed to notice was a sinking ship. "So you see, Professor Snape wasn't trying to kill Harry at all! He was just spending time with him because, well, he fancies him."

"Are you gay?" Ron once again ignored Hermione in favour of Harry, who he seemed ready to run away from at any second.

"No, no I'm not," Harry replied. "Really, Ron, I don't know why this happened. It wasn't supposed to. I've never liked men before, I swear."

"Right," said Ron, rising from his chair. "Well, I'm tired, so I think I'll be going off to bed."

"Ron, really, this is no way to—"

"Go on, it's alright," Harry cut Hermione off, motioning to the general direction of the dormitories. Ron took his advice and rushed off, leaving the two of them sitting alone.

"Harry," Hermione said after a moment's silence, "I'm really sorry that that didn't go well. I really am."

Harry exhaled deeply. "It doesn't matter. He'll come around."

"Yes, yes he will," Hermione reassured him. "He's just being, well, Ron. Don't worry about it."

"I won't," Harry lied. "It's late, though, so I think I'll go and sleep too."

"Alright, goodnight then," she replied.

As he walked up the stairs, he felt as though he had made a terrible mistake. Whatever Hermione said, Ron wasn't likely to accept this relationship any time soon. He had been an idiot to tell him anything; he should have waited at least until he was out of Hogwarts.

As he made his way to his bed, he noticed that it was quiet in the dorm. Looking around, he saw that most of the boys were eyeing him apprehensively.

"Is it true?" Neville whispered.

"What? Harry asked stupidly. Suddenly, as the truth hit him, he wheeled around to face Ron. He was in bed, however, the curtains drawn around him.

"Is it true you're with Snape? Seamus asked. He was standing far away from Harry, as though fearful of catching a disease.

"No, it's not." The blood was pounding so hard in his ears that he was hardly capable of hearing himself speak. He could barely think as he made his way out of the room and down the stairs and then out of the Common Room. It had to be nearing midnight and he would most likely receive a detention if he was caught being out this late. The least he could have done was bring the Marauder's Map. But in his present state of mind he didn't even control the level of noise he was making as he ran through the castle. He was furious, angry beyond words at Ron. Ron. The very name made him want to curse something into a thousand little pieces. And Hermione. How dare she tell him to reveal to Ron what meant the entire world to him. Setting it up when Ron came in so that he _had_ to tell him. She had no right. He had no right.

Those two sentences coursed through his mind as he barged into Severus' chambers.

"Harry?" Severus leapt up, discarding his books. "Harry, what is it, what's happened?"

Harry was vaguely aware of tears pouring down his face as he crushed the man in a tight embrace, holding on as though he was dangling on a cliff and relying on him to pull him back up.

"You'll hate me," he mumbled, "you'll hate me, you'll hate me." It was all he could say.

"No, I won't," Severus whispered, kissing his brow. "I could never hate you."

But his kindness only made it worse, and Harry was now sobbing in earnest. He was guilty, and scared, and livid. Finally, on the brink of delirium, he choked out,

"I told someone, Severus. I'm sorry. I told someone. I'm so sorry."

Severus tensed and asked softly, "Who?"

"I told Hermione," he explained. "I told her, and she was alright, she understood. I knew she would be okay with it, and that's why I told her. I swear, she accepted it."

"Harry," Severus laughed. "Harry, Harry, Harry. Though Ms. Granger is a ridiculously self-confident know-it-all, she has her wits about her. I know that she will not betray your trust. Really, if you had to tell someone, love, then Hermione Granger was the one to tell. Stop your crying, now. Everything is fine."

"No, that's the thing," he sobbed. "I told her for the reasons you just said, and you're right, she didn't tell anyone. But she wanted me to tell Ron, and I don't know why, but I did. And now he's gone and told all of the boys in my dormitory, and you must hate me, and I'm so sorry, I just..."

Severus held him tight for a few moments, then kissed his head and pulled back so that he could see his face.

"Harry," he said. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. But this is..." He sighed. "Well, this isn't the best of news. But I'm glad you came directly to me. You will stay here tonight."

"But that'll make things worse," he said.

"We're already in the fire now, Harry," Severus chuckled. "I don't think it will make much of a difference. Tomorrow is Saturday, and so you will not be missed for class. I would, however, like you to bring Mr. Weasley here tomorrow so that I may speak to him. Around lunch, preferably." At the sight of Harry's hesitation, he said, "I won't be rude, I promise you. But I can hopefully convince him to tell the others that what he said was a lie. Ms. Granger should come too, I think, after you explain to her the situation."

Harry nodded and brushed away his tears. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he answered. "And I quite forgive you. Mr. Weasley, however.." He sighed. "Well, come on then, let's get you to bed. You must be exhausted from all that crying. Really, Harry, I hardly knew you to be a crier."

Harry laughed in spite of himself. "I'm not. Trust me, this is a one-time thing."

He followed Severus into the bedroom and crawled under the sheets after him. He soon fell into his favourite position, wrapped comfortably within the man's arms. After a few moments, he lifted his head and pushed his lips carefully against his lover's. His tongue was readily accepted into the wonderful, warm cavern known as the man's mouth, and they engaged in a passionate kiss for several minutes. Harry then trailed his hand down the other's torso and Severus chuckled, "Aren't you tired?"

"When am I ever too tired for this?" Harry whispered. He was pleased to note that, as his hand drove into his lover's pants, a full erection was waiting for him. He gathered the length into his hand and began to move his fist along it, pumping moans and gasps from Severus' mouth. These did much to his arousal, and he was aware of his own erection before long.

Once he felt that Severus was suitably hardened, he muttered in his ear, "Please take me."

Severus, voice husky with need, replied, "Need you even ask?"

Harry chuckled and made to get into position. He heard Severus mutter a familiar spell, and soon felt warm, thick fingers slick with lube penetrate his hole. It felt simply heavenly. He let his head bow so that his brow rested on his arms, his chest heaving as it became necessary to breathe deeper, harder. He felt of all his worries disappear as Severus' throbbing penis finally entered him, threatening to push him entirely off the edge. He held on, barely, and could think of nothing more than this wonderful moment taking place. The others, whether they knew about their relationship or not, seemed miles away: they didn't matter. All that mattered, as Harry shouted Severus' name and came directly onto the sheets, was that they were together.

As usual, it wasn't long before Severus was shouting the name of the writhing boy beneath him and letting his seed burst forth. Harry moaned as it filled him, and they stayed in the same position for some time. Finally, when Severus had gotten his breath back, he pulled out and flopped down onto his back. Harry sniggered and came to cuddle next to him.

"Too much for an old man?" he teased.

Severus snorted. "Nothing is too much for this old man."

In agreement, Harry nuzzled his neck and breathed a sigh of happiness.

"Does this prove to you that I'm not angry?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded and kissed his lips. "Yes." He hesitated, then said, "I love you."

Severus was silent as he stroked the boy's arm. Eventually, before sleep swallowed him entirely, he muttered, "I love you."

Their worries were mercifully abated in their dreams.


	12. Hardships

**Chapter 12**

First of all, once again, thanks are very much in order to all of you who have taken the time to review and to read the story. In this chapter we begin to see the school's reaction to Harry and Severus' relationship...we are really moving beyond the introduction of the story and viewing now the main events. I would just like to give a short explanation about the story, if anyone is interested. I am a bisexual female who has been with quite a few girls. It is, to put it lightly, not easy to be with someone of the same sex in today's society. While rights for those in same-sex relationships have improved, we have nowhere near the same amount of liberties as those who are in a "straight" relationship. Things that most take for granted are a daily struggle for us. Something as simple as holding your lover's hand, or giving them a kiss at the movies, or going to a nice restaurant with your girlfriend or boyfriend, can turn into a disaster if not done with discretion. Often I've been asked, politely but sternly, to leave a restaurant or store if it becomes obvious that I am dating the girl that I am with. On that note, this story really reflects the struggles that I (and certainly many more people in same-sex relationships) face on a day-to-day basis. It truly is difficult to be with someone of the same sex and not feel as though you are oppressed. It has created an enormous schism between me and the rest of my family (most family gatherings I'm not even welcome at anymore), and some of my peers have gone so far as to outright tell me that they don't want me to speak to them at all. It is with these pains and obstacles in mind that I am writing this chapter, and I hope these emotions shine through my writing, particularly in the next few chapters. On a different line of thought, I'd like to say that yes, we will absolutely be seeing more of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. With this small explanation in mind, I hope that you all enjoy the chapter, and that you can take the time to review, if possible. Please take good care of yourselves, and again, thank you for reading.

* * *

When Harry awoke the next morning, the first thing that he was aware of was the empty spot beside him. Severus had clearly already woken and left. He sat up and made to put some order in his clothing: his pants were twisted around his ankles and his shirt was pushed up by his chin. He smirked at the realisation that he had been so tired after their escapades last night that he had simply passed out without fixing himself up. He got out of the bed and tried to flatten his hair as he searched for Severus. He must have left for breakfast. Momentarily stung at the fact that he hadn't woken him to at least let him know that he was leaving, he left the man's private chambers and set off towards the Great Hall. He had barely stepped beyond its arched doorway when a good four dozen faces turned to watch him. Face burning, he found Hermione reading the Daily Prophet, fortunately alone, and sat next to her.

"How many people did Ron tell?" he hissed.

Hermione looked up, startled, and peered over her shoulder. There were still a good number of people staring at him intently.

"Oh, Harry," she muttered, closing the newspaper. "I really don't know. I haven't seen him all morning. All I know is that he told the boy's dormitory, because Seamus came to see me today and asked if it was true."

"What did you say?" asked Harry, pressing his face to his hands. His appetite had left him, only to be replaced with the desire to throw up.

"I told him that it wasn't true at all," she replied. "Did you know that Ron had told them?"

"Yeah, I did," Harry said through gritted teeth. "As soon as I walked in last night they were asking me if it was true or not that I was with him. So I left, and I went to go see Severus."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "Do you really think that was wise? I mean, anyone could have seen you."

"Severus said that it was the right choice." At these words Hermione silenced herself immediately. "He wants to see Ron around lunch, and you too, if you can come. He wants to try and convince Ron to tell everyone that he was lying."

Hermione was eyeing him doubtfully. "I don't know how well that's going to work, Harry."

"If I told him to, he'd never do it," Harry agreed. "But with Severus doing it...I don't know, he might." Aware of the pairs of eyes still watching his every move, and the mouths whispering tales about him, he groaned. "I need to get out of here. I'm going back to the Common Room."

"I'll come too," Hermione said, gathering her things and following him out. People continued to stare until they were far out of sight, something that irritated Hermione greatly. "How many people did he _tell_? This is ridiculous. Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know he'd act like this."

Harry chose not to answer, and concentrated instead on ignoring the students gawking at him. It wasn't the first time that he had experienced something like this. He thought back to his second year, when the school had suspected him of being the Heir of Slytherin and of having set a monster loose. He couldn't decide which was worse, then or now. At least in his second year he was fairly sure that it wasn't him doing those horrible things. This time, he knew that what they were whispering was the truth.

He suddenly stopped walking, and remembered that he hadn't even checked to see if Severus had been in the Great Hall. The unexpected staring and muttering had driven any other thought out of his head.

"Hermione," he said. "Did you see if Severus was in the Great Hall?"

"Professor Snape? No." She frowned. "Why, was he supposed to be there?"

"No, I was just wondering," he said casually, continuing to walk up a flight of stairs. He wondered where the man could be. It really wasn't like him to just set off like that. They had barely reached the top of the stairs when they spotted Ron, sitting by himself in the empty hallway.

"Ron," Harry shouted before Hermione could stop him. Ignoring her cries of protest, he strode towards him, fuming. "What're you playing at? How many bloody people did you tell?"

Ron was silent for a while, weighing his words. "Only the boys in the dormitory," he said after a while. "They must've told everyone else."

"Why would you even tell them in the first place?" Harry was seething. He had merely to think of Severus, so innocent in all of this, and the urge to strike Ron was as fierce as it had ever been. He had no right to ruin everything like this. "Aren't I supposed to be your friend? If I trust you with something aren't you supposed to keep it to yourself?"

Ron stood up, and began to yell back, "They had a right to know! If you're a queer, and they're sleeping in the same room as you, they have the right to know it."

Harry coloured and looked around the hallway to ensure that nobody was listening. "I'm not gay," he snarled. "I told you that. I don't know what this is all about, I'm still confused, but I know I'm not gay. So don't go and flatter yourself and think that I'm going to feel you up at night."

Ron snorted. "Right then."

"Severus wants to see you around lunch," Harry continued. "So I strongly suggest you go to the Potions classroom."

"What, so he can feel me up as well?" Ron asked sarcastically. "No thanks."

Harry completely lost control at this, and before he could stop himself, his wand was out and he was about to curse Ron when Hermione shouted, "Harry, no!"

He turned to face her and barked, "Why shouldn't I? He deserves it, doesn't he?"

"Well, yes, he does," Hermione agreed, "but you'll get yourself in more trouble than you already are. Ron, please, come to see Professor Snape. I'm sure he'll have no problem coming and finding you himself, so please save him the trouble and just come."

She took Harry by the arm and dragged him away. Chest heaving, heart pounding, Harry refused to speak as they made their way to the Common Room. Once there, he flung himself into a chair and swore angrily.

"Harry..." Hermione sighed. "I'm so sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Forget about it. Just forget it. It's his fault, not yours."

Relieved, Hermione sat beside him. "How many people do you think know?"

"Probably half the school by now," Harry replied, forcing himself to remain calm.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked.

"I don't know," Harry said sharply, running his hand through his hair. "I haven't got a clue, Hermione. Severus could lose his _job_. All because of Ron, and because of me."

This sentence had barely been delivered before the Gryffindor in question stalked into the Common Room.

"Yeah, you know what, I'll go see Snape," Ron told Harry heatedly. "Because then I can tell him how disgusting I think it is. So don't worry, I'll be there."

"He could lose his job, Ron," Harry roared, jumping from his chair. "Don't you give a damn, or are you too caught up in your own little world? Look at that, you've told a few people something shocking, and now you're at the center of all of the attention." He laughed bitterly. "Even if it means that you stabbed your best mate in the back."

Ron's ears turned a deep shade of scarlet, but he refused to back down. "You think that's why I did it, for attention? I did it because it's _sick_. He's Snape, alright? Professor Snape, the greasy git that's managed to make most of our lives a living Hell since we first started at this school. And you've gone off and slept with him."

"Slept with him?" Harry snapped. "How would you even know? I didn't say anything about bedding him, did I?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron sneered. "You'd be with him for "remedial Potions" until early in the morning, and when you finally showed up you were worn out and it looked as if you'd already been sleeping for a good few hours. I'm not an idiot, you know. I've got some brains."

"Well, you're not doing a very good job of proving it to me." Harry shook his head and chuckled grimly. "Well, Ron, now the whole school knows. Job well done. You'll be in the spotlight, good old Ron, protecting his friends from the rapists known as Harry and Snape. As for us, I'll probably be expelled, and Severus will lose his job. But that doesn't really matter, does it?"

He stormed up the stairs to his dormitory, ignoring Hermione's calls. If she wanted to speak to him, she could come up and find him herself. He sat at the edge of his bed, ready to jinx the next person who walked in. Really, they deserved it. They all deserved it. Sitting there like a bunch of idiots, whispering about his personal life. Were their own lives so dull that they had to gossip about someone else's? He'd never done a thing to them; if anything, he'd been kind to them and helped them when necessary.

He looked up as someone came up the stairs, gripping his wand and ready to curse them if need be. He relaxed, however, when he saw Neville's round face peek through the doorway. "Er, Harry? Is it alright if I come in? Only Hermione told me you might want some space."

"It's fine," he said shortly.

Neville nodded and rushed to his trunk, where he began to organise his papers. When at last he had collected his homework, he straightened up and said, "Er, Harry? About what Ron old us...whether it's true or not, uh, well, I wanted to let you know that I don't mind either way. That is, I'm not about to pay any mind to your personal life. You've been a good friend to me, and whoever you fancy, well, they're lucky. And Luna wanted me to tell you that, too."

"Luna knows?" Harry asked.

"Most of the Ravenclaws do, I think," Neville said in a sympathetic voice. "But Luna said that most of them don't mind. They consider Snape to be a good teacher, and she said that a lot of them like you. She told me that most of the Ravenclaws don't even believe it, anyways."

"Thanks, Neville," he smiled. He felt a great deal of appreciation for Neville and Luna flow through him, and was relieved to see that not everyone in the castle had gone mad. "What about the Slytherins?"

"Well," Neville said worriedly, "I don't know about them. I don't think they know whether to believe it or not, but if they do, I heard Malfoy saying that he was angry about the fact that the Slytherin Head of House was with a Gryffindor. He also said that if Snape had to be with a Gryffindor, the last person he wanted it to be was you." Neville paused then added, "But he did say that it wasn't your genders that bothered him. If that, uh, helps."

"It could be worse then," Harry sighed, laying his head onto his pillow. "Thanks, Neville. Tell Luna that I appreciate it. You two are pretty much the only people with any sort of sense right now."

"Anytime." Neville grinned, and left him to his thoughts.

Harry was impatient for lunch to roll around. He wanted desperately to speak to Severus, to ask him what they should do next, to confide in him all of his worries. He feared now more than ever that he had made a terrible, irreversible mistake. If only he had chosen to tell Neville and Luna, rather than Ron and Hermione. This whole mess might have been avoided. But he had made his decision, and whatever the consequences would be, he had to face them. He was grateful, in any case, that he had Severus to face them with him, for better or for worse.


	13. Dumbledore's Book

**Chapter 13**

His laugh was filled with anything but mercy. It was cold, high, and streamed through Harry's blood like frigid metal. He made to look away, but it was impossible; hands were gripping his face, pulling him closer. The fingers were slick with blood. He tasted it, he smelled it, and he felt it rub against his cheeks.

"I've got it," Voldemort whispered to him. He could make out the outlines of figures around them, advancing slowly in the darkness. He struggled to escape, to say something, but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I've got it, Harry."

He pulled from his cloak an old, tattered book. Harry recognized this book, and though he couldn't name it, he knew that he couldn't let anything happen to it. He wasn't sure why, but the urge to protect that book rose so high in his chest that he found himself nearly capable of screaming at his captor to let him go. But he still couldn't form any words.

-o-

Harry woke with such a start that his pillow fell to the floor. His hair was dangling in his eyes, thick with sweat, and his face felt heated. He found his glasses on the bedside table next to him and put them on before peering behind his curtain. He worried that he had made some sort of disturbance and that the others had heard: they thought of him as a nutter already, and this wouldn't help matters.

Fortunately, as he found himself staring at empty beds, he realised that they were on vacation. Christmas, he forced himself to remember, was roughly a week away. Everyone but him and a few other students from different houses had gone home for the holidays. Grateful of this, he got up out of bed and paced. He hadn't had that dream for a long time: since the beginning of the summer, if he remembered correctly. The recurrent dream had haunted his nights, and he had been most relieved when they had stopped coming. He had half a mind to go and tell Dumbledore about them, but it would most likely make little difference. He couldn't identify the book in Voldemort's hands, and he was painfully aware of what had happened the last time he had taken action due to visions that involved Voldemort. Sirius had died. That made up his mind faster than anything else could have, and with the problem now resolved, he could only hope that the dreams would stop. They were hardly pleasant.

Aware of the sound of birds chirping outside, he checked his watch and found it to be nearing nine in the morning. Aware that he wasn't about to get any sleep, he thought it best to go down to the Great Hall and have something to eat. He took his time getting dressed as he didn't need to meet anyone downstairs: his only friends, Neville and Luna, had both gone home to enjoy Christmas with their families. Hermione, though he barely spoke to her nowadays anyway, had gone with Ron to stay with the Weasley family. He was hardly invited there, as Ron wouldn't even look him in the eye nowadays, and so he had found himself the ideal excuse to stay at Hogwarts with Severus. Of course, they could hardly carry on the way they had before. With the story of their seeing one another now fully circulated around the school, Severus suspected that it was only a matter of time before the teachers heard of it. Harry agreed, thinking back to an instant in Transfiguration where his face had burned redder than any of the Weasleys' hair. Professor McGonagall had told him sharply to stop daydreaming (he had been trying to decide on the best jinx to use on Ron before he left for home), and before he could explain himself, someone had whispered, "Yeah, Harry, stop thinking about Snape." He had blushed furiously while McGonagall attempted to quiet the roar of laughter that had issued from the classroom. Surely, the teachers must have noticed something by now.

But it would hardly do, Severus had decided, to simply stop seeing one another entirely. This would only confirm in the others' mind what they already suspected: that they were together, and that they were now guiltily attempting to make it seem otherwise. They therefore continued to do remedial Potions together, and Severus continued to give him detentions, though these were now few and far between.

As Harry sat down and began to pile eggs onto his plate, he didn't need to look up at the teacher's table to know that a pair of eyes were watching his every move. Indeed, as he quickly spared a glance in that general direction before beginning to eat, he saw Severus' eyes dart away quickly. He barely managed to keep a smirk off of his face: he hadn't expected his lover to be the type of man who stared at the object of his affection. As his eyes travelled back to his plate, he was surprised to see Dumbledore eyeing him. Smiling, he concentrated on his eggs for which he now had little appetite. Had Dumbledore seen that little display that they had just put on? Of course, it meant little: Harry had simply looked up at the teachers and momentarily caught Severus' eye. But if Dumbledore had heard any of the rumours going around...

He brushed that thought from his mind and forced himself to tally up the amount of homework he had left. He was rather glad that he had declined the position of Quidditch Captain that year. First of all, everyone hated him anyways, so he doubted that that would have gone over well. Secondly, he knew that he meant to be an Auror in the future, not a professional Quidditch player. He needed all the time he could get just to complete his assignments and understand the material, and playing Quidditch would cut down on his time further. He was always proud of his decision in that Severus had been impressed: he had said on numerous occasions that the choice was a sign of maturity.

He figured that it was in his best interest to go and finish his pile of homework. He therefore rose from the table and went back to the Common Room. He found a fire roaring in the grate and a number of blankets piled up on one of the chairs. Content, he curled up in one of them and began to read a section of his Transfiguration homework that he had being putting off for quite some time. It wasn't until after he had finished his reading that he permitted himself to go down for some lunch, and afterwards, to go down and visit Severus.

"Harry," the man greeted him. As usual, he was pouring over a number of books and charts. "How are you?"

Harry gave him a quick kiss then sat close beside him. "I'm alright. I finished that reading I had to do."

"Good, good," Severus said. "I've spoken to Professor Dumbledore regarding the rumours about us."

"What did he say?" Harry felt a hard knot form in the pit of his stomach. Though Severus appeared to be calm, he knew that little could ruffle the man, and he feared the worse.

"Well," Severus replied, "he merely wished to know how I felt towards you. I told him that you were hardly less annoying than you were before, and that I should be happy if you decided to quit Potions. I assured him that it would hardly break my heart."

Harry laughed, and while he felt some of his anxiety leave, he was still not entirely relieved. "Do you think he suspects us?"

"Not yet," Severus answered. "I am sure, mind you, that something has reached his ears. But the Headmaster is not the type of person to go about judging others too quickly. I do plan on telling him eventually, in any case."

"You do?" Harry's face betrayed his fear.

"I do," Severus repeated. "Harry, he really is the only one that I can trust with this. Unlike your friend Ron, I feel confident that Professor Dumbledore will make a decision with our welfare in mind."

Harry couldn't argue with this, so he contented himself with running a finger up and down Severus' leg.

"What are you up to?" Severus asked, amused. He looked down at the finger Harry was trailing about sensually, and the boy laughed.

"Trying to get you into bed," was the honest reply. "Is it working?"

"No," Severus shook his head. "Really, Harry, we can't go around doing this anymore. The stakes are far too high."

"But no one's here," he protested. "No one's going to know." To further convince his professor, he crawled down to the floor and pushed his cloak apart so that he could see his belt. Eager, he undid it and began to unbutton Severus' pants.

"Harry..." He trailed off, apparently unsure of what to do. His mind was more or less made up for him, however, as Harry buried his mouth into the material directly covering Severus' crotch. He hissed sharply and felt an erection stir. "Harry, don't be ridiculous."

"Please?" he all but whispered. He unzipped the pants fully and stuck his hand inside, beyond the man's undergarments, until he came in contact with hot flesh. Victorious, he pulled out Severus' length and sent him the most sensual of looks.

Severus was not complaining. His hands were lost deep within the boy's hair, silently pleading with his eyes for some sort of quick release. They hadn't been able to do this for a while, as it was very unsafe at the present time for Harry to stay in his private chambers too late. But these doubts were far from the Potions professor's mind as he gazed upon his lover, whose hand was beginning to pump up and down his full erection.

He writhed and couldn't help but let go a moan or two. The firm grasp on his skin felt superb: every nerve in his body seem to be filled to the brim with pleasure, and he was nearing his climax. It was so close, so very close, and he shut his eyes in preparation to embrace it. Just as he was lingering at the edge, moments away, Harry swallowed his penis whole, tongue lapping hard at the head. He got his release, and it was forceful: it spilt itself deep into Harry's throat, and the boy swallowed immediately. Severus felt the orgasm rack his body: each wave of it caused him to thrust forward and moan a string of words that were incomprehensible other than the occasional "Harry".

When at last he was spent, he leaned back in the couch and put his hands to his face, rubbing tiredly. He was exhausted. Harry tucked his penis back into his pants and came to sit beside him.

"How was that?" Harry whispered.

"Absolutely perfect," Severus murmured. "Just perfect."

Harry glowed with pride. "I should probably get going."

"After that performance?" he demanded. "I think not. You easily deserve something in return." He eyed the boy's pants and Harry laughed.

"I have to go finish my homework," he said. "And didn't we say that I shouldn't be in here for more than an hour? It's getting close to that by now, and someone might be looking for me."

"Imagine that," Severus smirked. "An adolescent male who actually has some self-control towards something sexual. Incredible."

Harry stuck out his tongue childishly before kissing his lover on the cheek. "I caught you staring at me at dinner, by the way."

Severus grunted, which Harry found deeply satisfying: so the man _had_ been guilty of eyeing him during breakfast. He gave him another kiss and went back to his Common Room.

As Harry sat in Dumbledore's office the next day, he was extremely tired. Last night he had been both too aroused and too worried to sleep. Aroused because his mind kept trailing back to what he had done to Severus earlier that day, and worried because he feared Dumbledore's reaction when he heard of their relationship. When he had woken the next morning to Dobby's telling him that the Headmaster wished to see him right away, well, he'd been terrified to say the least.

And now he was sitting in the man's office, waiting impatiently for him to arrive. When he did at last, Harry was shocked: he had bags under his eyes, and though he smiled serenely as he took a seat behind his desk, he seemed to be worn out.

"Harry," he said softly. "How has your break been thus far?"

"Very good, sir, thanks," he replied truthfully.

"Harry, I feel it is time for me to speak to you a bit more about Voldemort," he said. Harry relaxed instantly: so this wasn't about Severus and himself. "I suppose you might have read in the Daily Prophet that he is suspected to be in Ireland?" When Harry nodded, he continued, "Well, these claims are only half-true. While Voldemort has indeed been there on business, he has also spent a lot of his time gathering followers in France."

"Why there, sir?" Harry asked.

"Well, this is only a guess," he said, "but I believe that Voldemort's reign did not touch these two countries very much the last time he was in power. As such, though they've certainly heard of his powers, they are not as wary of him as we are." He sighed deeply, and seemed to be planning what he said next. Finally, he hesitated, then said, "Harry, you have an important decision before you. You shall not be forced into anything: you are nearly a man now, and capable of making the choices of a man. You can either help to destroy Voldemort and all that he has created, or you can pull back now and hear no further mention of it from myself."

"I want to fight," Harry said quickly. "I want to help as much as I can."

Dumbledore beamed. "In that case, my dear boy, I do believe that I may be of some assistance." He leaned in his chair towards a shelf to his right, and pulled from a large row of books a thick, plain novel.

"This book—" he began.

"I've seen that!" Harry interrupted. "I've been having these dreams, sir, and they started at the beginning of summer but went away. I had one again two nights ago. Voldemort had that book."

"This very one?" Dumbledore asked sharply. He handed Harry the book, and he examined it closely. His heart sank. No, it wasn't the same book.

"No," Harry replied. He set it back on the desk in defeat. "This one was bigger, and older. And it didn't have a title on it. Just runes."

"Very curious," said Dumbledore. "If you have this dream again, Harry, please come to me immediately. I am glad, however, that he did not have _this_ book. For this book contains spells that are far beyond those that we teach here at Hogwarts. They are powerful, dangerous incantations. Harry, I do believe that the time has come for you to begin to prepare yourself to fight Voldemort. Alas, the time may have already passed. I begin to fear more and more that we are too late. But enough worrying for now. I should like you to learn as much as you can from this book, Harry. If ever you need help, I shall be ready to assist you. Most of the teachers here, I am sure, will be more than ready to give you a hand. I do believe, however, that you should learn a good part of it on your own."

"Yes, sir." He was extremely excited. Whatever that book contained, he was certain that it could help him defeat Voldemort. If Dumbledore was lending to him, then it was sure to be filled with spells the likes of which he could only imagine.

"I must also ask you not to let anyone else read it," Dumbledore said. "Its use is highly prohibited by the Ministry of Magic; I could be in very deep trouble if ever they were to find out that I let a student read it. But the time has long passed for us to worry about breaking the rules of the Ministry, Harry. Those laws that are logical in the fight against Voldemort, we must uphold and respect. All others, I fear, should be neglected, unless they aid in our survival."

Harry was surprised by the severity of Dumbledore's tone. He nodded, and took the book into his lap.

"Before you go, Harry, I have one other question," Dumbledore's gaze was as intent as ever. "Is there anything that you would like to tell me? Anything, for example, about you and Professor Snape?"

Harry coloured but kept quiet. Finally, he managed to say, "No, sir. There's nothing."

"I see," Dumbledore did not ease his stare. "I bid you a pleasant day, then. I hope that you shall be studying that book."

"I will, sir," he assured him. "Thank you, sir." With those words he left, guilt gnawing at his insides. He felt Dumbledore's eyes burning a hole into his back as he closed the door behind him.


	14. On Our Best Behaviour

**Chapter 14**

Harry was feeling an emotion with which he was becoming very acquainted lately. In fact, he feared that if there were not some drastic changes in his life, it would become one that permanently affected him. He was angry. Angry at Ron, angry at the school, and especially angry at the Daily Prophet.

When he had first walked into the Common Room that morning, he had seen the newspaper sitting on one of the coffee tables. The House Elves had a habit of bringing one nearly every day, in case one of the students was interested in reading it. Picking it up, he had barely to browse beyond the first few pages before he hit an article in which the journalist seemed to be complaining about Hogwarts. He was not surprised: the Ministry of Magic was leaning heavily on the Prophet and it was no secret that Fudge greatly disliked Dumbledore. As he began to read, however, he came to see that he was mistaken: the article's subject wasn't the general problems that Hogwarts had, but his relationship with Severus.

As he threw the stupid newspaper into the fire, gaining small pleasure from seeing the pages go up into flames and curl, he mulled it over. Really, it hadn't specifically named anyone. It had simply said that certain teachers were beginning to take an interest in their students beyond the academic, and that the Ministry would be conducting a full investigation. Anybody who read the article and who attended Hogwarts would know exactly that it meant Harry and his lover, and they would no doubt tell their parents. He wondered if Mr and Mrs Weasley would read it, or if Ron would tell them about it anyways. Hoping dearly for the contrary, he set down to study the book that Dumbledore had given him, though he was hardly in the mood to do so.

The book proved to be extremely fascinating. Though he could not understand the peeling letters that made up its title, and at times the hundreds of pages between its covers daunted him greatly, he had managed to learn quite a few spells already. Most of these were somewhat simple (protective shields that worked best underwater, for example), but he saw that as the chapters progressed, the spells became more powerful. Severus had once told him long ago, however, never to take shortcuts when learning any type of magic. Though he wanted to peek towards the back of the book and try a spell or two, he knew that it was necessary that he follow the spells in the order that they appeared. Dumbledore had also left little 'D's written in green ink at the top of certain pages. Harry assumed that this meant that these were spells that Dumbledore especially wanted him to practice: one of them was a Lumos that touched not only his wand, but the wands of all those around him, which allowed him to see his enemies if they were approaching him in the dark. Some of the spells that could be of no use to him in the fight against Voldemort, such as a spell to permanently remove any sort of dust from one's house, had a "No" initialled at the top of their page. Harry soon came to appreciate Dumbledore's help in sorting through the spells, and while he still had a lot to learn, it helped him avoid taking the time to teach himself something that Dumbledore did not deem important for him to know. He trusted the man's opinion, and therefore skipped the pages that bore a "No", though he made a mental note to come back to some of them later (one in particular allowed the user to curse someone so that they were incapable of speaking for up to five days).

The good thing about studying the book was that it helped him occupy himself. Otherwise, he knew that he would probably be driven completely insane by his desire to be with Severus. Now that Dumbledore suspected them, they really could not continue to see each other every day during the holidays.

After having read at least two chapters from the book, Harry felt that he couldn't possibly take in one more page. In any case, studying further was useless: he couldn't process anymore information and would probably have to go back and reread anything he tried to understand now. With that conclusion made, it put the book away and quickly checked the Marauders Map. One look assured him that nobody was near Severus' chambers, nor were they approaching, and that the man himself was in the Potions classroom. Satisfied, Harry rushed down to meet him.

He had barely stepped into the classroom when he heard a voice call from above, "Harry, I'd strongly advise you move."

Surprised, he looked up and saw Severus standing on a ladder and tending to the ceiling. Large patches of a dark green potion were covering it, and he was using, to Harry's further amazement, a cloth to scrub them. Harry heeded his advice and moved, to his advantage: he had barely stepped to the left when a large chunk of the potion fell in his general direction, missing him by a few inches.

"Severus?" He laughed. "What are you doing?"

"These dratted stains have been here for months," he grumbled, scrubbing away. "They've bothered me every day this semester. It's not _difficult_ to keep clean. I've always said it. If the caretaker would only come in this classroom once a month to do his job, perhaps, I would have the possibility of doing my own work. The amount of homework I have to grade, Harry, is ridiculous. It would be far easier if those ignorant students of mine produced something of quality, but they do not, and so it makes my task more tiresome than it should be."

As Harry listened to his rant, he understood that Severus was not in a good mood. In fact, he suspected that the man was probably ready to curse the next person that walked through the door, unless it was Dumbledore.

"Why don't you just use magic?" Harry frowned.

"I can't," he sighed. "This type of potion reacts negatively to any sort of magical incantation to clean it. Proven, of course, by the fact that it is on the ceiling in the first place. I told my students to clean it manually, but no, Professor Snape could hardly be right. So they go and try to clean it with magic and blow themselves up. And I hardly trust them to clean it off the ceiling themselves: they could knock over a number of precious ingredients that would take me weeks to bring down from the shelf."

Harry looked to Severus' right and saw that the wall was lined with shelves upon shelves bearing bottles of ingredients. He remembered his professor telling him long ago that the higher up on the wall the bottles were, the more dangerous their contents were. As these nearly touched the ceiling, he expected that they could produce some nasty effects if handled improperly.

"Here, why don't you come down for a while?" he suggested. "Your arm is probably killing you. Let me do it for a while."

"Very well," Severus said gratefully. He descended and handed Harry the cloth. "Simply pick at the potion, and please, try not to scratch the ceiling."

Knowing that Severus was picky about these things, Harry nodded and climbed up the ladder. He began to scrub, until he realised that the cloth was becoming dry and that he had no water.

"Er—Severus?" he asked.

"Hm?" was the reply. The man was sitting at his desk and reading an essay thoughtfully.

"How do I get water?" He held up the dry cloth as evidence.

"You do know the Aguamenti Charm?" Severus asked. Harry nodded and smiled in gratitude. The spell proved to be successful: a stream of water burst from his wand and properly soaked the cloth. He returned to his cleaning, and before long, multiple patches of the dried potion had fallen from the ceiling. When most of it was gone, Severus asked him to stop.

He climbed down the ladder, his arm sore, and sat at a nearby desk as Severus collected the potion in a wastepaper basket. Once finished, he exhaled in exhaustion and seemed ready to slump in his chair. Though he never would, as he constantly preached to Harry the importance of a good posture, he did look very worn out.

"What a long day." He shook his head. "I've been cleaning since dawn. A nightmare, I tell you."

Harry sighed. "I've been studying the book Dumbledore gave me."

"Yes, the Headmaster spoke to me about it," said Severus.

"I've learned a few things so far," Harry said eagerly. "There's loads of interesting spells in there. Of course, there are some I'm having trouble with, but I figured you could help me." He gave him a hopeful look.

"Of course I can," Severus replied. "If I'm not available, I suggest you ask Professor Flitwick. He's quite capable of performing most of them, I'm sure. I believe the Headmaster has already warned him that you might ask for his assistance. But Harry, I would really rather that you didn't go to Professor Dumbledore about this."

"Why?" Harry was surprised.

"He is very busy, you see, and I'd prefer it if you came and bothered me instead of him," Severus said, "Though I do not doubt that he would help you if ever you asked, he has many concerns at the moment."

Harry smirked. "You just want me all to yourself."

"Oh, dear me, you've gone and uncovered my secret desire," Severus said sarcastically. "Well, you'd best be off. I've two piles of essays to do for tonight, and you need to go about your studying. Did you see that article in the Daily Prophet?"

"I did," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I can't believe it."

"I can," he chuckled. "Oh, the Ministry will be having an absolute party over this one. Paedophilic teachers at Dumbledore's school—imagine it! In any case, Harry, we must be on our best behaviour."

Harry smirked. "Yes, sir." He came to his lover's desk and, without so much as a warning, kissed him square on the lips. He'd been wanting to do this all day, and now that he finally had the chance, he could hardly contain himself. When he pulled away, Severus sighed and took his hand.

"Before long we shall be able to enjoy each other's company," he muttered. "We must be patient."

They kissed again, softly, and Harry left before he pounced on the man. Really, Severus was far too appealing for his own good.


	15. Christmas

**Chapter 15**

As Harry dressed himself Christmas morning, it pleased him to see the snow falling leisurely outdoors. He had always appreciated a white Christmas, and this year he was not to be disappointed. His presents had been as good as usual: boxes full of sweets from Hagrid and Mrs Weasley, a book dealing with defensive spells from Hermione, an array of multicoloured socks from Dobby, and a set of quills and ink from Luna and Neville. He had already tried the latter and found them immensely entertaining, for while some of the inks wrote in the regular black, the set also contained a variety of colour to choose from, ranging from gold to emerald. Pleased with his gifts and not surprised that he had failed to receive anything from Ron, he was now preparing himself to go and meet Severus. He and the man had agreed that they would not give each other anything for Christmas. Severus rather detested the holiday, and Harry would feel ridiculous if he gave him something and received nothing in return. All he wanted from the man was a good snog anyways, and so Harry left the Common Room in high spirits and went into the dungeons.

"Harry Christmas," he called the moment he stepped into the older man's private chambers. Severus was, as expected, seated at his small dining room table. He appeared to be enjoying a cup of tea and had a Daily Prophet in hand.

"There you are." Severus smiled and set the newspaper down. "Come here, I've been waiting all morning."

"Eager to see me?" Harry teased.

"Oh, I could hardly wait a moment longer," he drawled. "No, I was actually waiting to give you this." He took a neatly wrapped package from within his cloak and set it on the table.

"Severus!" Harry scolded. "We promised each other we wouldn't buy any gifts for Christmas, because _you_ didn't like it."

"I've had a change of heart?" Severus had a gleam in his eye, but otherwise, his face was void of any expression.

Harry snorted and lifted up his present. The wrapping paper was a deep green, and at the top of the box sat a scarlet bow. "Nice colours."

"Yes, I thought you'd rather enjoy them." Though the man was feigning indifference, Harry thought that there was a tone of anticipation in his voice. He unwrapped his gift and held a smooth, wooden box in his hands. Lifting the cover, he revealed a golden watch gleaming within. It had intricate symbols carved around the edge, and though it was quite large, it seemed weightless as Harry pulled it onto his wrist.

"Severus," he muttered. "You really, really didn't have to. This is..."

"I haven't even explained what it does yet," the man chuckled. Harry looked up in alarm.

"It already looks very, very nice," he said. "Don't tell me that it does something other than tell the time." Guilt was now positively swallowing him whole: _why_ hadn't he bought Severus something in spite of their agreement?

"I am a practical man, Harry," Severus replied. "I would hardly buy you something simply for the sake of it being a decoration. You see those symbols on it? If they appear as they are now, it means that you are quite safe. If they flash white, it means that somebody is approaching with whom you'd rather not deal."

Harry was staring in awe at his gift. "This is incredible. Thank you so, so much." He leaned over and kissed Severus passionately on the lips, biting on his lower lip before sitting back into his chair and shaking his head. "Now I feel like a right git for not getting you anything."

But Severus was not paying mind to what Harry was saying. Rather, he had taken out his wand, and was eyeing the watch intently as it began to light up. Before he could say a single word, an abrupt knock sounded at the door and Dumbledore stepped in.

Harry turned scarlet and was at a loss for words. Fortunately, though he seemed to be surprised, Dumbledore smiled in his direction. "A very happy Christmas to you, Harry."

"Harry Christmas, sir," he mumbled.

"If I could speak with Professor Snape for a moment, Harry?" he asked gently. Understanding that he was to leave, Harry took his box, cast Severus a worried look, and left. As the door closed behind him, he leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. It was one thing for Dumbledore to hear rumours about them, but to see them sitting at Severus' table together with a present was hardly to be swept aside. He was worried to the point that he felt as if he would be sick, but there was little that he could do, and so he went off to have his lunch.

He hardly tasted his turkey and potatoes as he chewed what felt rubber in his mouth. His stomach was swimming as though it were an ocean suffering a bout of bad weather, and though he tried to calm himself down, he could not convince himself that Dumbledore was not suspicious of their behaviour. Though he knew that he needed to get a grip, it was impossible. 

How could he? The man had just seen them together in a place where he wasn't entirely sure that students were even allowed. As this thought struck him, Flitwick approached.

"Happy Christmas, Mr Potter!" he said cheerfully.

"Happy Christmas, Professor Flitwick," he replied, grateful for something to distract him from his thoughts.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me to find you," the Charms professor continued. "He would like to see you at once. Do you need me to show you the way?"

"Er—no thanks," Harry said. He tried to smile as fear flooded through his entire being. He rose from the table though his legs felt like mush. "I can find the way, sir."

"Best be off then." Flitwick smiled and left the Great Hall as Harry attempted to calm his nerves. Perhaps Dumbledore just wanted to know how Harry was progressing with his book. He had sent Flitwick, after all, and he was one of the teachers that Harry was supposed to be going to in case he needed help. Slightly relieved, he proceeded to the Headmaster's office, unsure of what to expect.

His worse fears were confirmed when he saw Severus standing in the office as well, hands behind his back. His expression was stern and calculating. Harry stared at the ground as he took a seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, aware that both men were watching him closely.

"Severus, please, have a seat," Dumbledore offered. Harry looked up just in time to see his lover nod curtly, though the suggestion clearly displeased him. He sat in the seat next to Harry.

Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, hands clasped, and then he spoke, "I fear that I cannot turn a blind eye to this situation any longer." Harry was glad to hear that his voice was calm and, if anything, filled with concern rather than anger. "I have heard rumours, as I have told you both, and at first I brushed them aside. It is no secret to me that you have both hated one another in the past. But now, it would appear that that has changed. Please, explain to me what is going on, for an old man like myself can hardly keep up with such things."

"Mr Potter and I," Severus spoke quietly, "have been seeing each other since the end of the summer."

Silence reigned and Harry could hardly believe his ears. Severus had just told Dumbledore that they were together. The truth was now out, and they had nowhere to hide. He looked at him helplessly, wishing for some sort of comfort, but Severus did not seem willing to look anywhere other than directly at Dumbledore.

"And how did this happen?" He seemed curious.

"As Mr Potter and I began his Potions sessions," Severus explained, "we began to develop a bond, if you will. I can assure you that I gave the boy no interest before then. But we began to see more of ourselves within each other, I imagine, and before long we faced the undeniable truth: we had somehow become infatuated with one another. I proposed to Mr Potter here that we begin a relationship, and he agreed. I therefore accept full responsibility."

"Severus," Dumbledore said in a soft, sad voice. "You speak of Harry, who is sitting right here, as if he were just another student. It doesn't sound to me as though you love him at all."

Severus paused, then said shortly, "My mannerisms towards him are far different in private."

"I see." Dumbledore sighed and eyed them both in turn. "This situation is one that is both tricky and dangerous. Severus, you are a capable and intelligent man. While I respect your private life and your decisions, this is one of my students. And not just any student; let us be honest with one another. You are spying on Voldemort himself, and Harry here is perhaps the one wizard that Voldemort would most like to lay his hands on. The stakes, I fear, are high."

"I am skilled at Occlumency," Severus replied. "I would never have engaged myself with Mr Potter–Harry–if I had not been certain that his safety could be assured. The Dark Lord has yet to suspect us."

"But if the Ministry were to find out..." Dumbledore trailed off, then said, "They are already on the lookout, as the Daily Prophet may have informed you both. The Ministry plans on conducting a full investigation to discover if there are relationships taking place within the castle that go against the law." He turned to Harry and smiled. "Harry, you are awfully quiet. Have you any suggestions as to what we do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just...I didn't want us to be found out at all, sir. But now we have, and everything's become complicated, and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Often this happens in life, unfortunately," Dumbledore replied. "But I must know, both of you, are you willing to stay together? The price is high, as I've already said. But my mind is split. On the one hand, this sort of relationship is deeply prohibited. On the other hand, I have trusted Severus' judgement above that of any man I have yet to meet. I do not believe that he took the decision to be in this relationship lightly. If you are both, as I suspect, in love, then I fear it would do more harm than good to force you both to separate."

"Perhaps a temporary separation, until Harry is out of school, is necessary," Severus suggested.

Harry looked up angrily and frowned. "If that's the decision, then I'll drop out as soon as I leave this room."

"Teenage boys," Severus grumbled. "I've never quite understood them. Really now, Harry, do use your common sense. Is it worth being with me if the Ministry finds out? You know as well as I do that they will publicize this as best they can. The Dark Lord shall know of it immediately, and that puts both of us in extreme peril."

"Then let's separate then," Harry said, trying his best to sound as neutral as possible. "We won't speak out of class, and I won't go and see you anymore. Once this is all over, or I'm done school, we'll start up again."

"Is that what you want, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, not really," he said. "But if it's between that and being blown up by Voldemort, well then, it's the best choice we've got right now."

Dumbledore nodded wearily. "If that is your decision, then I can't say that I disagree. At the very least, you should stop seeing each other until the end of the year. By that time, hopefully, the investigation done by the Ministry shall have finished. After which..." Dumbledore rubbed his eyes and exhaled. "Voldemort may very well have taken over the school."

"Ridiculous," Severus said sharply. "Headmaster, if all goes well, we shall be able to set in motion a proper plan by the end of the summer."

"Yes, if all goes well," he agreed. "Well, that is all, then. You'd best be off, both of you. And I must ask you both to please be patient: you know the risks of being together. While I can't say that I necessarily approve of the relationship while Harry is a student, I understand your perspectives and I mean to respect them. But your safety must come first."

They nodded silently and left the office.

"Harry," Severus called as the boy rushed down the hall without looking back at him. "Harry, what's gotten into you?" He made to follow when the boy turned around and glared at his approaching form.

"Stay away from me, alright?" he snapped.

Severus faltered and Harry immediately felt sorry for what he had said. He hadn't meant to wound the man, but he was furious at the moment.

"Just, look," he explained, "this is hard enough for me as it is. The more I see of you, the more I speak to you, the harder it's going to be. It'll be better if we just ignore each other."

"And your Potions lesson?" Severus' tone was barely above that of a whisper.

"I'll learn it myself," Harry replied. He took off, refusing to speak to Severus further. He could hardly believe the turn of events. It had been difficult for him not to speak to the man for more than three days. Now he was expected to last until the end of the year. It was absurd, and he felt his heart breaking into a hundred different pieces. He continued to traipse through Hogwarts, unaware of where he was headed, just knowing that he didn't want to be cooped up in the Common Room.

Rounding a bend, he stopped as he heard voices. Though for one wild moment he thought that they might belong to Dumbledore and Severus, he realised that one was a woman's voice. Lead seemed to drop into his stomach. After all he had dealt with today, it couldn't be her. It just couldn't be.

But as he crept forward and hid behind a tapestry, straining his ears to listen, he knew that he had not been mistaken.

"Of course, the Ministry is taking this very seriously," she said. "A teacher at this school should be professional at all times, and to become interested in a student is simply the worse of crimes. Oh, is that the Headmaster I see coming?"

He heard the sound of heels against the floor and made to hide himself further, but it mattered not: she was headed in the opposite direction.

"Professor Dumbledore, may I have a word?" she asked. Silence followed, and she grumbled to her companion, "As if he's really too busy to walk away like that." Bringing her voice back to its regular volume, she called, "Professor Dumbledore?" She then gave a high-pitched cough. "Hem-hem?"


	16. An Unexpected Invitation

**Chapter 16**

"I can't believe Umbridge is back," Neville muttered as he and Harry sat down. The classroom was filling up around them, though it was far quieter than usual. The reason for this was standing in the far back, smiling sweetly.

"Can't be for long, though, can it?" asked Harry, pointedly ignoring Ron's entrance with Hermione. He hadn't spoken to either of them since they had gotten back from holidays, and he wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon.

"I hope not," was the reply. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off as Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom. Her lips were pursed and she seemed to be quite angry.

"Today I expect you all to finish your essays," she told them. "They will be given to me at the end of the lesson, and I shall not tolerate chitchat.

"Hem-hem?" came a cough from behind them. Swivelling in their chairs, each student turned in surprise to stare at Umbridge. She smiled innocently. "I suppose it's rather silly of me, but, did you say that you were giving the students time to work on their essays, dear? Why, I would have thought that such a thing would be assigned as homework."

"I suppose it's rather silly of me," McGonagall snapped, nostrils flaring, "but I was under the impression that you were here to conduct an investigation on the relationships between the teachers of this school and their students. From what I recall, your prior position of evaluating our teaching methods was taken from you, Dolores."

Harry smirked as the smile slipped from Umbridge's face. She conjured a clipboard and began to take notes furiously. McGonagall was having none of it, however, and sat at her desk to read from a book. She paid no mind to their guest for the rest of the class.

"Are you coming for lunch?" Neville asked, an hour later, as they filed out of the classroom.

"I'll catch up with you later," Harry replied. In truth, he wasn't very hungry, and he knew that he had a pile of homework waiting for be finished. Neville smiled and moved away with the crowd, leaving Harry to ignore the stares as he pushed his forward. As he finally turned onto a hallway containing little more than five or six people, he was capable of picking up the pace. When he eventually sunk into the armchair closest to the fire in the Common Room, he was irritated by the fact that the room was not empty. Many students were laughing together or exchanging stories of their holidays; he was used to having the place to himself, and now he was forced to share it with others. Others who disliked him, no less. Trying to ignore them, he rubbed his eyes in fatigue. He had little desire to go into the dorm and get his books, but he knew that it was the best choice. As the minutes ticked away and he listed in his head every bit of work that he still had to get done, he reluctantly gave in and went to get his things. Now back in his chair, he pulled out his Potions essay and attempted to finish it.

Without Severus' help, he was having a much harder time of things. He knew that before long his grade would drop considerably. Would he then be told that he had to resume his tutoring with Severus? He honestly didn't think that he could. The very sight of the man entering the Potions classroom caused his heart to melt and break all at once. Melt because the man was stunning, and break because their separation was slowly driving him insane.

-o-

The next day, as he watched Severus' face blend with the fumes of the potions, he could swear that the man was not his usual self. He appeared to be very tired, the lines in his face more pronounced and the bags under his eyes highly evident. Though he stirred the liquid in his cauldron and pretended not to notice as the man swept towards him, he felt a tiny bit of elation deep within himself. He could hardly help it: whenever Severus offered him the least bit of attention nowadays it meant the world to him, though he knew that in reality it shouldn't.

He peered into Harry's cauldron, wrinkling his nose.

"Potter, what is this mess?" he asked.

Harry glared at him, but was surprised to see that Severus did not press his point. He knew that his potion was awful and he had expected to hear about it for the rest of the class. This did not, however, seem to be his professor's intention as he moved on to someone else. He seemed to want to ignore not only Umbridge, who was sitting in the back of the classroom, but Harry as well. Convincing himself that this was fine, and that he didn't care what Severus thought of him, he sat brusquely in his chair and turned the pages of his book.

Once he had found the potion that he was brewing he read the instructions. It didn't take long for him to groan in disbelief: he had forgotten to add the bubotuber, which no doubt explained the cauldron's acrid stench and bizarre colour. Instead of turning a deep shade of green when he had stirred it, the potion had somehow managed to become a vivid burgundy. Before he could begin to correct his mistake, however, the lesson was done and Severus was asking the students to put their potions in flasks and deliver them to him. Harry dumped a bit of his mess into a flask, wrote his initials on its front, and dropped it off on the man's desk. It pleased him very little to see that most of the students had done as badly as him, if not worse.

As he began to pack away his things, he saw Umbridge march up to Severus.

"Professor Snape," she said, peering down her list. "If I may ask you a few questions?"

"As you wish." His tone betrayed that he was impatient to leave the room.

"Have you noticed any of your colleagues paying special mind to the students?" she asked sweetly.

"No."

She waited a few moments for him to elaborate, but as he stood silent, she realised that that was all he would say on the matter. Somewhat ruffled, she continued to smile and checked her list.

"Have you yourself been paying any students private visits to their rooms?" she asked. "Have you been having conversations with them that involved matters other than the subject that you teach?"

"No," Severus replied. Turning, he noticed Harry, who was spending a great deal of time packing his bag. "Potter, what are you still doing here?"

"I dropped some of my stuff, Professor," he lied.

"Do hurry, Potter," he drawled. "I've hardly the time to run a babysitting service, and I need to leave. Do not expect me to allow you to stay here unsupervised." His eyes were gleaming.

"Yes, sir," Harry said angrily. He swung his bag over his shoulder and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He didn't care what Umbridge thought, or how Severus felt towards his actions. The man was going far beyond what was necessary to convince the others that they disliked each other: he was being plain rude. He wondered if it wasn't some sort of revenge for Harry's treatment of him the night they had decided to temporarily separate. At this point, he didn't think that it would be temporary for much longer.

Still fuming, he had barely left the dungeons when he saw someone coming towards him. He tried his best to rearrange his features as he recognized Cho Chang.

"Harry," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Alright," he said warily. The last time they had spoken it had not gone so well. "You?"

"I'm good, thank you," she replied. He sensed that she, too, was aware of the tension between them. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk? I wanted to talk to you."

"A walk is fine," he said. He was relieved. He and Cho had dated each other for a while last year, and it had ended in disaster. He hadn't been sure of her intentions in approaching him, but now he was quite relaxed. It probably had to do with Cedric, and now that they were no longer dating, it didn't bother him to speak of that subject.

They made their way outside. The snow had already begun to melt, no doubt thanks to the rain that they had been getting for the past few days. They walked in silence for a while, until Cho sighed.

"I'm sorry about what happened between us, Harry," she said softly. "Last year just wasn't my year, you know. What with Cedric dying, and You-Know-Who out in the open, I wasn't myself at all. I'm sorry for all of the crying. I really am."

"Don't worry about it." He was surprised by her apology, and suspicious all the while of her intentions. Was this some sort of way for her to discover if the rumours about him and Snape were true?

"How was your summer?" she asked.

"It was decent," he replied. Realising that he was probably coming off as a jerk, giving these short answers, he continued, "I stayed here at the castle for most of it. I practiced flying and just relaxed, mostly."

"That sounds nice," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't join the Quidditch team: everyone had their bets on you for Captain, you know."

"Really?" He couldn't help but feel a bit of pride at this statement. "I just have a lot of stuff to do this year, that's all. I don't expect to be a professional Quidditch player when I'm older, but I do want to be an Auror. So I thought, well, I should probably dedicate myself to school for a while. They only accept the best of the best."

Cho nodded. "That's very mature of you, Harry."

He reddened, aware of the fact that someone else had thought the same not long ago. That person, however, was someone that he wanted far out of his thoughts, so he cleared his throat and said, "Thanks. So, uh, how was yours?"

"It was good," she laughed. "My family went on vacation to Canada, and it more or less rained the whole time."

"Canada? That's far," he said. "Other than the rain, though, it was alright?"

"Yes, it was quite nice," she smiled. "We all needed a bit of relaxation, I think, and it did the trick."

"Sounds nice."

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence, viewing the scenery around them. Harry was still unsure of why she had wanted to speak to him at all.

"You don't seem to spend as much time with Ron and Hermione anymore," Cho noted. She seemed to be concerned, but Harry laughed it off.

"Ron decided to spread a rumour about me," he explained. "I'm sure you've heard about it. And Hermione...well, she'd rather be with Ron I guess. It doesn't matter though: I've got Neville and Luna."

"Ron started that rumour?" She frowned. "That's awful. Well, just to let you know, I don't believe any of it. Anyone with half a brain wouldn't listen to it for a second: you and Snape seem to hate each other! Most of the Ravenclaws don't believe it. We _are_ the House of intelligence, mind you."

Harry felt deeply grateful at these words. "I'm glad to hear it. The whole thing is so stupid."

"It is!" she exclaimed. "And now we've got Umbridge here to see if anything is really happening. She's such a hag. It's obvious the Ministry is just using this story as an excuse to keep its eye on Hogwarts. I hope the Centaurs come and take her off with them again."

"That would be nice," said Harry, grinning.

They continued walking, chatting mostly about school, until it was nearly time for them to go off to their next class.

"I'm sorry," she said, "keeping you out like this. You didn't even get a chance to eat."

"I wasn't that hungry anyways," he replied truthfully. "And this was nice: we haven't had the chance to talk for a while. I haven't really had that many people to have a conversation with, lately. I'm not exactly the most popular person around since that rumour started."

Cho shook her head. "It's all so ridiculous." She hesitated, then said, "I was just wondering... there's a Hogsmeade trip next weekend. It's a surprise they're even letting us go, what with You-Know-Who around, so I thought I'd better make the most of it. Would you like to go with me? If not, I completely understand, but I just thought I'd ask." She paused, then added, "I promise I won't cry."

"I'd love to," Harry replied immediately. He had no one else to go with anyways, and had planned on spending the day in the Common Room by himself. Now that he and Severus were no longer together, it was ridiculous to sit around moping. An outing with Cho would do him some good.

"Excellent," she replied. "I have to get to class, but I'll see you soon. Bye, Harry."

"Bye," he said. He stood in the same spot as she rushed off towards the castle. He observed the way that she dodged the puddles, hands deep in her pockets, head bent. Cho really was quite pretty. Perhaps now that she had had the time to concentrate on herself, and heal herself in regards to Cedric's death, they could at least become friends. Harry could definitely use more of those nowadays. And if something further came from it, well, he highly doubted that Severus would mind. His attitude towards Harry lately made that much quite obvious. In the very least, going to Hogsmeade with a girl would hopefully force the others to believe that the stories about him were entirely false.


	17. Deeply In Love

**Chapter 17**

Before Saturday rolled around, news had already circulated around the castle of Harry and Cho's outing. Many seemed to feel that it was a date, and that the rumours of him and Snape being together were therefore disproved. Others felt that the two were merely going as friends, and that the stories told still had an element of truth to them. For one thing, Professor Snape seemed to be much angrier than usual: he gave an entire classroom detention for speaking and giggling too loudly, and he stormed around the castle as though every student present had done him great harm. He glared at them menacingly, snapping if they so much as looked in his general direction. Some of the students seemed to feel that he was acting this way purely because of his jealousy over Harry and Cho's plans. There was also the fact that the two were often seen together throughout the week, smiling and engaged in deep conversation.

Harry felt that Severus was beginning to feel some sort of jealousy as well. The man would not even look his way nowadays, never mind addressing him at all in classes. No matter how terrible of an attempt his potions turned out to be, Severus would turn a blind eye. Umbridge, suspecting that there really was nothing going on, had turned to other teachers. She seemed to be fearing that nothing was taking place in Hogwarts after all.

After one particularly gruelling Potions class (that, incidentally, took place on the Friday before they were allowed to travel to Hogsmeade), Harry had had quite enough. Severus was now barking at any student who so much as whispered at a fellow classmate to pass an ingredient or utensil, and he felt that it was entirely his fault. After asking Dean Thomas if he knew where Umbridge was, and being reassured that she was sitting in on one of Professor Sinistra's classes, his mind was made up. As the lesson ended and the students left the classroom, he waited until the last of them had gone.

"Severus," he said, approaching the desk. "You need to stop acting like this towards everyone."

The man stared back, and said, "Acting how? I am behaving as I normally do, I think you'll find."

"No, no you're not," Harry replied. "You're treating everyone like dirt, and I know why. You're angry about the fact that I'm going to Hogsmeade with Cho, aren't you?"

"Hardly." Though Severus' voice was casual, his eyes had narrowed considerably. "Whatever friends you choose to keep, Harry, is entirely up to you."

"What if she's more than a friend?" he asked recklessly. Severus tensed.

"Then I sincerely hope that she makes an excellent _girlfriend_ for you," he spat. He rose from his chair and began to violently throw his quills into a drawer.

"I never said that she was," Harry replied. "But it seemed to me that whether she was or not, it wouldn't make a difference."

"We are on a temporary break," Severus hissed. "Break, Harry, does not mean that you go off and do whatever you like with whoever you want. But if this is what you choose to do, then please, do not let me get in the way."

"This isn't what I want," Harry nearly shouted in return. "You have no idea how hard it is to sit around and wait to be with you. You barely even asked me if that's what I wanted."

"Then why not say something?" he demanded. "I cannot read your mind on the spot like that. If it frustrated you to this extent, you ought to have said something. In any case, _you_ have no idea how it feels to see you giggling away with some young lady as though I am completely forgotten."

"You're not forgotten," he replied. "You're not."

"In any case," Severus seemed not to have heard him, "I was actually meaning to ask you if you would like to come to my chambers tomorrow. Your note in Potions is terrible lately, and so I thought that Dumbledore might agree. Umbridge has found nothing against us, you see, and so she is planning on returning to the Ministry tomorrow." He snatched up his paperwork and made to leave. "But as you are quite busy with Ms. Chang, I understand that you cannot meet me. No matter."

Before Harry could do so much as process the guilt that came from this revelation, Severus had swept out of the classroom and closed the door behind him. He sunk into a chair and put his head deep into the cradle of his arms. How was he supposed to know that Severus had made plans for them already? He had half a mind to corner the man and tell him that he and Cho were just friends who planned on spending the day reliving old memories. But that would be a lie, he realised in disgust. Part of him had wanted to perhaps find some sort of romance with her, now that Severus was so off-limits. Was he not patient enough to wait a few more months? Was Severus not worth the wait?

Thoroughly disappointed in himself and the outcome of things, he returned to the Common Room to study Dumbledore's book. He had met with the Headmaster three days ago to show him his progress, and they were both pleased with the range of spells Harry could now perform. Dumbledore had also hinted that before long he would be devising a plan to attempt to defeat Voldemort. Harry knew that he would be directly involved in this, and he was eager to help the 

Order in any way that he could. Right now, that was through learning these spells, and so he committed himself to doing so.

"Harry?" came a voice before he had so much as turned to the right page. Looking up, he saw Hermione coming towards him. "Can we talk?"

He nodded and she sat herself down.

"I know that..." She took a deep breath. "I know that Ron hasn't behaved in the best way possible. He's hurt, you see. It was a long time into the relationship before you so much as told him about it."

"I wonder why," Harry replied sarcastically. "Just look at what happened once I told him."

"Yes, and I agree, he's been dreadful," she said quickly. "But Harry...I miss you. Ron misses you, though he'll never admit to it. Can't we try to sort things out?"

"I'm not sorting out anything with him," Harry said flatly. "If he wants to tell me he messed up and apologize, he can go right ahead. But I'm not sure I'll be forgiving him anytime soon."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I can't say that I blame you. But Harry, we're worried about you. We wanted to be able to help you defeat Voldemort, and now that we've been pushed out of your life, we can't."

"I've got Neville and Luna. Everything is going fine."

Though Hermione seemed doubtful, she nodded anyways. "Speaking of which, they're looking for you in the Great Hall. Why haven't you been eating lunch lately?"

"Who told you that?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Luna," Hermione admitted. "But really, Harry, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied. Holding up his book, he said, "I've been studying this."

"Oh, did Professor Dumbledore give that to you?" she asked excitedly.

Harry nodded, but closed the book. He wasn't interested in sharing any of it with Hermione, so long as he was bitter towards her and Ron. Understanding the gesture, she smiled meekly.

"Well, bye, Harry," she said. As she left, Harry felt sure that he heard her sniffing, but he ignored it.

-o-

"Before we get something to drink, can we stop in here?" Harry asked, motioning to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

"Yes, alright," Cho said. "I need a new quill, anyways."

"I actually got a set for Christmas," Harry replied as they stepped into the small store. "But I've used up all of the black ink."

Cho smiled and began to peruse the quills, while Harry made his way to the section that displayed the colours available to write with. He took his time examining the different shades, and Cho had long purchased her quills before he settled on one that was the usual black. They had great fun experimenting with the different colours, as the shop offered a roll of parchment on which the customers could scribble. Harry ended up buying Cho and himself two different colours: while she chose pink, he stuck with gold. It had become his favourite, and the set he had received at Christmas was running out.

Pleased with their purchases, they made their way to The Three Broomsticks. Cho suggested Madam Puddifoot's, but Harry pushed for the former: their last experience at the cramped tea shop had ended with Cho crying and running out on him.

As they took a table and ordered two butterbeers, Harry barely had a chance to sit down before Cho gasped in alarm. Seizing his wand, he looked around wildly, afraid that Death Eaters had somehow made their way into the inn.

"I can't believe that Professor Snape is _actually_ in Hogsmeade," she gasped.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he found Severus in the crowd: he was sitting at a table, eyes concentrated on his drink. Flitwick and McGonagall were with him, their expressions equally stern. Harry could tell, even from a distance, that they were speaking in low voices.

"I wonder what he's doing here," she said, frowning. "It's not like him at all."

Harry shrugged. "I guess he just wanted to get out of the castle."

"Yes...I suppose so," she said, though she seemed to not be entirely convinced. "It must get a bit tiresome, locked in the dungeons all day."

Harry nodded and changed the subject, though his mind was far from the topic at hand. As they exchanged funny stories regarding Quidditch and their past years at Hogwarts, he thought of Severus. Had he come to check on how Harry acted around Cho? Or was the man so depressed that he had felt it necessary to leave Hogwarts? Harry doubted this, but it remained a possibility.

"I can't believe it's my last year," Cho sighed, shaking her head. She took a sip of her drink and said, "And next year is going to be your last, too. I'll miss Hogwarts so much that I've thought of taking another year."

They laughed, and Harry said, "I've thought of doing the same. I actually would, you know. Hogwarts has been my only home. The Muggles I lived with before weren't that great at all."

Cho smiled sympathetically. "What if you became a teacher? They're always needing to fill the post for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"I would," Harry replied. "But I want to be an Auror. I feel like it's my job to catch Voldemort, and what better a way to do it?"

Though she flinched slightly at the name, Cho's tone was soft as she said, "Harry, You-Know-Who isn't going to be around forever."

Harry sat back in his chair, reflecting on this. He had always expected Voldemort to be a part of his life. There was no Harry Potter without Lord Voldemort. Even his reputation in the world was closely woven with that of his worst enemy. He had never truly imagined his life without him.

"You're right," he said, looking into her brown eyes. They were filled with worry. "He won't be. But it's hard to believe."

"It is," she agreed. "Especially for you. But Harry, there are people willing to help you. I'd like to help. So would all of Dumbledore's Army, I think."

Harry grimaced. "I think half of them were there just to figure out if the rumours about me were true."

"Some, yes," Cho admitted. "At first, I think they were. But as we progressed and we began to really learn magic...I think a lot of people are still wishing that we would keep meeting, Harry. And I know that if you needed their help, most of them would be there right away."

"Maybe," he said. Harry no longer wanted to speak of Voldemort, as he was usually occupying his thoughts in a negative way anyways. Casting around for a subject, he said, "How're you doing about Cedric?"

He regretted the decision, as Cho tensed instantly. After a moment, however, she relaxed and said, "Much better, actually. Of course, I still think of him quite often. But I don't cry as much as I used to." She smirked and said, "Which I think you'll be happy to hear."

Harry grinned. "Maybe a bit. But really, you're doing alright?"

"Oh yes," she answered. "Much better." Her eyes suddenly darted up. Harry followed her gaze and watched as Severus left with McGonagall and Flitwick. His face was impassive.

"Funny to see him here, isn't it?" Cho mused. She seemed lost in thought for a second, then suddenly asked, "Harry, what time is it?"

"Oh, er..." Harry lifted up his sleeve to check his watch. "It's three, why?"

But Cho was not listening; she was staring at Harry's watch intently. "Harry, that's beautiful! Where did you get it?"

"For Christmas," he muttered. Not wanting to seem suspicious, he added, "From a friend."

"Your friend has good taste," she said admiringly. "It's lovely."

"Yeah, it's useful," he replied. "See the symbols around the edge? They light up when there's someone approaching that I don't want to meet."

"Like an enemy?"

"No, anyone really," Harry said, thinking back to when they had lit up moments before Dumbledore had burst into Severus' chambers. "As long as you don't feel like seeing someone, the watch will light up."

"Well, I think that it's just stunning," she announced. "Anyways, what time did you say it was?"

"Three."

"If it's alright with you, then, I think we'd best be off," said Cho. "I've got this nasty essay to write, you see, and it'll probably take me most of the night."

"That's fine," he replied. In truth, now that he had not only seen Severus but taken a moment to reflect on the man, he wanted to be by himself. It was ridiculous of him, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Cho was a nice girl, and having her in company had greatly improved since the year before. But he now realised, as they walked back to Hogwarts, that nobody could replace Severus. If he had been sipping butterbeer with his friends and Cho had entered the room, he would have felt little emotion towards her. But simply watching Severus from afar, seemingly in deep conversation, had caused his heart to pound. He had wanted nothing more during the entire time than to walk up to Severus and kiss him as passionately as possible.

He was, he now knew, deeply in love with the man, and there was little that he could do about it.


	18. Interrupted Apologies

**Chapter 18**

I'm sorry that this took longer than usual to update. I've actually taken the time to go back to my other chapters and do a bit of editing to them. I'm pretty tired and feeling a bit sick at present, but I knew that I had to get up Chapter 18 before midnight. So here it is; I'm very pleased with it. Please, if you have a spare moment, review and give feedback if you can. It means a lot and makes my day. Take good care, everyone.

* * *

The next few days seemed to pass in a blur. Harry hardly remembered the events that occurred: it all seemed surreal. This was due in large part to his serious lack of sleep. He found that the moment he shut his eyes and put his head on the pillow, the thoughts began to spin in his head uncontrollably. He thought of Severus, and how much he longed to touch him and speak to him. He thought also of Cho. She had been spending more and more time with him as of late. On the one hand, this meant that most of the school now suspected that he and Severus had never been together. On the other hand, this meant that Cho now seriously expected Harry to begin dating her, and Harry knew that that wasn't likely to happen.

He was lost, and he felt as though he had no way of fixing this. Severus had seen him with Cho in Hogsmeade, and now that he was done with being angry at the man, guilt had set in with a vengeance. He should have never agreed to go with her to Hogsmeade; he should have made something up and stayed at Hogwarts. Perhaps then he could have went to Severus' chambers and all of this would have been fixed.

Harry thought of this as he lay in his bed one night. It had been three weeks until he had been to Hogsmeade, and he and Severus had not spoken yet. Even in class, where Harry suspected he would be paid a bit of attention, the man went on as if he were a piece of furniture. Not only did this cause him a tremendous amount of pain, but it was making his Potions mark suffer terribly. Even now that Umbridge was gone, and he suspected that they would have relaxed a bit around one another, Severus refused to do so much as look in his general direction during class.

Unwilling to go another night lying in his bed and thinking, Harry searched through his trunk for the Marauders Map. He often lit his wand and stared at Severus' immobile dot, wondering if he was asleep or simply reading. He could spend hours doing it, though he knew that it probably meant that he was insane. How he would love to see his own dot, the one labelled as "Harry Potter", sitting directly next to the one titled "Severus Snape."

He was not disappointed: the Potions professor was in his private chambers, no doubt sleeping. A quick glance at his watch (which brought another lurch of his stomach: it had been a gift from Severus) told him that it was nearing three in the morning.

At that moment, for the second time this year, Harry decided to go and see him. Only this time, as he pulled on his Invisibility Cloak and pocketed his map, he had a purpose in mind. He didn't plan on arriving there and mumbling like a confused idiot. He planned on apologizing.

He crept through the hallways, careful of keeping quiet, the pounding of his heart resounding in his ears. He had slipped through the school many times while returning to his dorm after a late night with his lover, and yet it always proved dangerous: Filch or his cat could be waiting around any corner. He checked the Marauders Map, just to make sure, but the pair of them were skulking around the Great Hall.

As Harry made his way into the dungeons and towards Severus' private chambers, he prayed for many things. Above all else, he hoped that he wouldn't be hexed before he so much as opened his mouth. Summoning his courage, he knocked and held his breath.

Moments later, the door opened, Severus' wary face peering through the crack.

"Who is it?" he demanded.

Realising that he still had his Cloak on, Harry pulled it off.

"Harry." Though Severus relaxed slightly, he still appeared to be quite tense. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," he replied, "I'm sorry it's so late, but I can't sleep, and I really wanted to see you."

Severus held open the door, a small smile fixed on his face. "I do recall experiencing something very similar to this but a few months ago. Is it often in the night that you prefer to speak to people?"

"No, not really," Harry said. He sat into a chair and rubbed his face. "It's just...look. I'm really, really sorry."

"Whatever for?" Severus came and sat opposite him.

"Going to Hogsmeade with Cho," he explained. "It was stupid, and I'm sorry. I don't even know why I did it. We were only on break, and I should have told her I couldn't go. But for some reason I couldn't do it. And now she's hanging around me all the time, waiting for me to ask her out, and I can't."

Severus appeared to be surprised. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm with you," Harry nearly laughed. "You don't go off and date people when you're with someone else. You're not supposed to, anyways."

"I thought that you had gotten over your feelings for me," Severus said lightly.

Harry was shocked. "Why would you think that? Of course I haven't. It's been driving me insane, not seeing you." He shook his head. "I love you, Severus. I thought you knew that."

"I expected that you had moved on," he said. "You certainly told me to stay away from you, and so I imagined that you were no longer interested in seeing me."

"I was, and I am," Harry assured him. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

They sat staring at each other as though time had stopped. Neither said a word for several seconds, and they both remained perfectly still. Suddenly, as though wishing to do so before he lost his nerve, Harry flung himself out of his chair and crushed his lips against Severus'. Though shocked, the latter quickly responded, plunging his tongue into the depths of Harry's eagerly awaiting mouth. The boy sat on Severus' lap, hands roaming through his hair. A few moans couldn't help but escape his mouth: it had been a very long time before they had experienced this.

Harry all but ripped off Severus' shirt. They weren't in the bedroom, and a light was still on somewhere, but he didn't care. He didn't care that they usually retreated to the bed for this sort of thing, nor did it concern him that he was usually far too self-conscious to strip in the light. All that mattered to him was that his hands felt Severus' hot flesh.

And they did. Harry desperately ran his hands over his lover's chest and arms, grasping them when his arousal became almost too much. He was delirious with desire already, and made quick work of their pants and undergarments. Severus was wonderfully erect, his burning shaft pressing into the roof of Harry's mouth as he swallowed him whole. He revelled in his professor's groans: they were music to his ears, pushing him to lick harder, to take him deeper. The length began to pulse dangerously, warning no doubt that his release was imminent. Harry therefore tore himself away, but not without a sensual lick around the wet head before him.

Before he could so much as ask Severus to take him, the older man pushed him onto the floor so that he was flat on his back. His own erection was now being licked, and it was a feeling beyond any that he could have hoped for: he didn't understand how he had gone for so long without this. Severus licked several times before bringing Harry entirely into his mouth, sucking only a dozen or so times before Harry was forced to pull away. He needed Severus urgently now, and knew that he was going to go insane if he didn't have him soon.

The feeling appeared to be mutual. Severus pulled his wand from his cloak with shaky hands and conjured a fair amount of lube to his fingers. Harry made to go on his knees, but a hand held him urgently, forcing him to remain on his back. Severus shoved his student's knees up near his neck and began to move his fingers slowly into the boy's hole, taking great pleasure in hearing the needy noises coming from Harry's end. His hole stretched to pleasurable lengths, the slim fingers brushing ever so slightly against a spot that had him panting more than once. Finally prepared, Harry couldn't help but sigh in gratitude as Severus pushed himself into his entrance. He put his arms on either side of the body beneath him, his face quite close to Harry's, and he began to thrust. This was a new form of intimacy, and they were both deeply appreciative of it: Harry licked and kissed the other's neck, now muttering his name in increasingly desperate tones.

A new feeling began to build up inside of him: a hot, burning fire flickering in his stomach and soon travelling all about his body. His legs began to tremble, he began to breathe harder, and with one last push from Severus' end he gave a hoarse yell and felt an orgasm rack his body: his body jerked five or six times, he could hardly breathe, and he spurted all over his stomach.

At that moment, the door burst open.


	19. Escape

**Chapter 19**

Harry felt his mouth go dry as Dumbledore entered the room, closely followed by Fudge.

"If he's going to threaten the Ministry like that," Fudge said loudly, "then that's the last straw. I've all but had enough of it. We have the numbers, and if Severus will now..."

He trailed off as he took in the sight before him. Severus and Harry, both flushed and panting, were tangled together on the floor. Time seemed to freeze as they were all motionless; Fudge's face bore an expression of shock, while Dumbledore seemed to be thinking quickly.

"So it's true," the Minister finally gasped. "There _is_ something going on in this school. Unbelievable." He pulled out his wand when Dumbledore held up his hand.

"No, Cornelius, there is no call for hexing anybody," he said sharply. "Severus, Harry, kindly come to my office. We will wait outside." He gave the Potions Master a meaningful look and then stepped out of the room.

"Disgusting, Albus, disgusting," Fudge rambled furiously, following him out. "I can't believe they hid it from Dolores for so long. Did you know anything of it?"

The door shut behind them, and leaving Harry and Snape to get dressed.

"You have to go," Harry whispered. "Now. You have to get out of here."

"Nonsense," Severus replied. He stood and adjusted his robes. "Doing so will place of all the suspicion on Albus. Fudge will think that he left the room so that I could make a run for it. Come, Harry, we must hurry."

The boy leapt to his feet and tidied himself up, terrified of what would happen next. He would rather that Voldemort had begun to attack the castle than Dumbledore and Fudge had caught them. How could they have been so stupid? If they had at least gone to the bedroom, Severus could have spoken to them in the sitting room while Harry hid. But they had not exercised caution, and now they would both have to pay the price.

"Harry," Severus said under his breath, "I'm going to have to flee. Not now, but as we're walking down the hall, I'll make some sort of diversion and leave. I don't know when I'll be able to speak to you again."

A lump formed in Harry's throat, but he shook his head. "Don't worry about that now. Just worry about getting yourself out of here."

Severus nodded and placed a firm, lingering kiss on his lover's lips. He then stood straight, his face lacking any sort of expression, and opened the door for Harry.

"Hurry up, hurry up," Fudge barked. "I'm a busy man, and the quicker we get you to the Ministry, the sooner I can wrap up this entire business."

They began to march towards Dumbledore's office, everyone silent except for Fudge. He seemed to feel that solving Hogwarts' mystery was entirely of his doing.

"I always knew that Dolores had missed something," he told Dumbledore, a smug look on his face. "But I can't believe it. Severus and Harry, of all people!" He turned to the former and said, "I thought you hated the boy."

"We shall discuss this in my office," said Dumbledore. His voice was stern and lacked its usual cheerfulness.

They had just rounded a corner when someone grabbed Harry's arm. Surprised, he made to wheel around and push them away, but instead he found himself being shoved into Dumbledore. The man caught him immediately and pulled him to safety as the wall next to them crumbled down. Fudge swore loudly and jumped out of the way; he barely missed being hit.

As the dust cleared and they saw that the way was entirely blocked, Harry realised that only he, Fudge and Dumbledore had escaped to the one side: Severus was still on the other, and Harry imagined that he was now departing as quickly as possible. He grinned wildly as Fudge began to yell at the top of his lungs.

"Where did he go?" he roared. "What in the devil does he think he's doing?" He turned to Dumbledore, and Harry saw that his face was scarlet. "I'm beginning to suspect foul play here, Albus!"

Dumbledore chose to ignore him, and worked instead on clearing a path in the rubble. A few whips of his wand later and much of the mess had been removed, only to reveal that Severus had indeed fled.

"Gone!" Fudge shouted to no one in particular. "Gone!"

"I suspected as much," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Severus is hardly the type of man to simply accept his fate."

"We'll have to find him," Fudge growled. "We'll start searching immediately. Excuse me, Dumbledore, but I have to get back to the Ministry."

He made to move past the Headmaster, but the latter simply smiled serenely.

"I would advise that you let the matter be, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "We have Voldemort to take care of, and all of the Ministry's power should be bent on dealing with him, not Severus Snape."

"I'll be damned if I don't find him," was the retort. "Now _excuse me_, Albus."

And with that he strutted away, presumably to Floo himself back to the Ministry. Harry expected Dumbledore to escort him to his office, but instead, the man merely sighed.

"Harry," he said. "It would be best if we spoke somewhere other than my quarters. Fudge may be occupying it for some time." He looked around and located an empty classroom. "This should do the trick."

As Harry entered the classroom, he failed to recognize it. Desks were stacked in neat rows by the blackboard, and it seemed that the room had not been in use for quite some time.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, "do you know where Professor Snape has gone?"

"No," he replied honestly. "He told me that he wouldn't be able to talk to me for a while, and that was it."

Dumbledore was quiet, a calculating look on his face. Finally, Harry cleared his voice and said, "What do you think Fudge is going to do?"

"The Minister of Magic is feeling much pressure right now," was the reply. "Many feel that Fudge should no longer remain in office, and yet there is not a soul who wants the job at present. His reputation has suffered greatly since last year, and he wishes to find any way to improve that. Capturing Hogwarts' supposed paedophile is, as you can imagine, too great of an opportunity for him to give up."

"What should I do?" Harry asked fearfully. He knew that he played a part in this, and that at some point he would be questioned.

"You shall be interviewed, I expect," Dumbledore said wearily, "and I would advise that you tell them that the entire thing was forced. That is to say, that Severus forced you to engage in sexual intercourse with him."

Harry was shocked. "How could I do that to him? It's not the truth, and if I pretend that it is, he'll never be able to walk in the streets again."

"Severus is quite capable of taking care of himself, I assure you." Dumbledore smiled and patted the boy's arm softly. "What matters now is society's view of you. The last thing we need is you being criminally charged by the Ministry, Harry. Severus would have never wanted that."

"Fine," Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I hate lying like that, but I will." He felt tears stinging at his eyes but he forced himself to keep his voice steady. "When do you think I'll be able to see him?"

"I cannot say," Dumbledore said sadly. "I truly cannot say."

-o-

"When did your professor start showing interest in you?" asked Umbridge eagerly.

"The beginning of the year," said Harry. He made to ignore her face and concentrate instead on his knees; the urge to strike her was nearly overwhelming. "He started to talk to me a lot more, and made me stay after class."

"What would he speak to you about?" she demanded, scribbling away on a clipboard.

"Er...just general stuff," Harry lied. "He asked what I wanted to do when I was older, what I thought of Potions, stuff like that."

"And this never came off as peculiar to you?" Her eyebrows shot up, and she cast a look at Fudge, who remained impassive.

"A bit," he said. "I just thought that Professor Dumbledore had told him to be nicer towards me."

"And then what happened?"

"And then, three nights ago, he caught me in the hallway," Harry said slowly. He had thought over his story carefully, and it would not do to mess it up now. "I was out of bed because I had to do my homework and I had forgotten my books in the Library. And Professor Snape was there, and he told me to come to the dungeons, so I thought that he was going to give me a detention. But instead he..." He cleared his throat and muttered, "He brought me into his private room, and pushed me onto the floor, and went on top of me, and..."

Umbridge nodded sympathetically, jotting down her notes as fast as she could. "You poor, dear boy." Standing up and grinning, she said in a sickly sweet voice, "You had better return to your dormitory and get some rest. We'll take gave of this."

Harry nodded silently and left the room. His stomach was churning with disgust: his story was terrible, and made Snape out to be a madman. Of course, he knew that the Potions professor would never dream of doing anything like what he had described, but it was necessary that he made it sound as though it had not been his choice to engage in what they had been found doing. Fudge and the Ministry could never know of how passionately in love they were.

As Harry entered the Common Room, he found Hermione and Ron talking quietly. The room was empty, as most of the students were at dinner.

"Harry," Hermione greeted, rushing over to him. She threw her arms around his neck and said, "Neville and Luna were looking for you. I think they're in the Great Hall." She pulled back and eyed him with concern. "How did it go?"

"Fine," he brushed her off, meaning to go to the dormitory and rest. But before he could so much as move in that direction, Hermione was dragging him towards the chairs by the fire.

"Come and sit, Harry," she pleaded. "Ron and I need to speak to you."

At these words, Harry stopped and crossed his arms. "I'm not listening to that prat."

"Please hear him out," said Hermione, sitting next to Ron.

Harry groaned with impatience but stayed where he was, face revealing his evident displeasure. After a moment's silence, Ron put his hands to his face and groaned.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I only told a few people because I was shocked, and now it's gone and become a bloody mess. I didn't think it would go this far."

"Well it has," Harry said shortly.

"But Harry, Fudge didn't even go into Professor Snape's chambers looking for you," Hermione reasoned with him. "He went to talk to him about something related to Voldemort, didn't he?"

"That's what it sounded like," he replied. "But whatever he meant to talk to him about, I don't care. The rest of this has been a nightmare, Ron, and it's all because of you. I wouldn't have even been there at night if it weren't for the fact that we haven't spoken in forever. We've had to keep everything quiet now that the Ministry's gotten itself involved, and I missed him, so I went down to see him. We were so caught up in spending time with each other for the first time in a while that we didn't even think, and, well...Fudge and Dumbledore walked in."

"Why didn't you notice your watch lighting up?" Hermione frowned. "Isn't it supposed to tell you when people you don't want to meet are approaching?"

"I haven't been wearing it," said Harry. "It reminded me of him, and since we haven't been able to see each other in so long, it was just painful to think about him."

Hermione sighed.

"Well, I'm sorry anyways," Ron told him. "I don't know what to do to fix what I did, but I'll try and help you out."

"Don't bother," said Harry. "Severus is off to who knows where, everyone thinks that he's a mad rapist, and I'll never be able to speak to him again. He's supposed to help with the war against Voldemort, but that's a bit difficult when he's supposed to be arrested. There's nothing more that I can do about it."

And with that he left for his bed.

* * *

Thank you so very much for reading this chapter. I hope that you can review if you get a moment; I received so many on the last chapter! I also have 51 people subscribed to get an alert when a new chapter is up. That's incredible, and it means so much to me...it's nice to see that my hard work is paying off. I also know that I'm being very cruel to both Severus and Harry, but I hope that you can all forgive me. I actually have the last chapter written, and I think you'll all enjoy it. Also, on a side note, if you are a writer, please feel free to check out the contest I'm hosting. It's called Write the Wrong, and it can be found by going to my profile and clicking on "Forums". The contest rules are found there, and I am eagerly awaiting giving away the prize, so please check it out if it interests you. Writers of all fandoms are welcome.


	20. A Decision to Leave

**Chapter 20**

The plot thickens! We are now reaching my favourite part of the story. Thank you all so much for the kind words and the amount of hits I've received: it's all very encouraging and appreciated. Nothing makes my day more than saying a notice popping up and telling me "E-mail from FF . net". This chapter is what sets off quite a shift in the story: Harry is no longer the damzel in distress. True, I believe, to his character, Harry does not mope around and sulk. He uses his anger and sadness about Severus' leaving to his advantage. This chapter shall illustrate that, and so, I hope you all enjoy! Also, I'd like to thank Mike, who of course provided me with Dumbledore's password. Much better than "KitKat", I believe, which was my original idea. Lots of love goes to Mike, and to all of those who are reading the story! Take good care of yourselves.

* * *

The days seemed to pass in a blur. One second, Harry was sitting in class, attempting to take notes and understand the material taught to him; the next, he was being interviewed by Umbridge; minutes later, he was laying in his bed, thinking of Severus. It was hard not to. The strangest things made Harry think of him: the smell of tea, the colour green, the soft sheets on his bed. They had gotten a new Potions teacher, Professor Astor, and he seemed relatively competent. At any rate, with his half-hearted lectures and evident dislike of the subject, he reminded Harry little of their former professor, for whom potions had been a passion.

But Hogwarts, for the first time in Harry's life, had truly lost its glamour. He no longer woke in the morning with that wonderful feeling of anticipation bubbling in his chest, threatening to boil over. Rather, from the moment that he woke up, Harry wanted to go back to sleep, for it was then that Severus wove in and out of his dreams. On more than one occasion Harry had woken in the hours before dawn and made to wrap his arms around a sleeping figure next to him, only to realise that he was quite alone in his bed.

He wondered where Severus could possibly be. Dumbledore would give little information, though Harry was quite certain that the Headmaster knew precisely where his lover was. He seemed to think that it was in Harry's best interests that he knew not where Severus was, and the latter evidently agreed: he had yet to send his former student a single letter.

Disheartened by this, Harry could hardly appreciate some of the improvements that had taken place in his life. For one thing, Ron was slowly starting to come around, and Hermione was eager to return their friendship its previous state (Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that things could never be what they once were). There was also the fact that most of the student population had forgotten the rumour about Harry and Severus being together. Most suspected that Harry was now meaning to ask out none other than Cho Chang, though of course that was far from the truth. Cho, however, was not aware of this small fact.

She seemed to follow Harry wherever he went. During lunch, she was at his side, giggling at whatever comment he made; as he tried to study in the Library, she sat with him, asking for help with her own homework, though he could hardly help her, given that she was in a higher grade. There was also the frustrating fact that wherever she went, a group of annoying girls followed her, staring at him and whispering amongst themselves.

And yet, as far as Harry was concerned, he was making it more than evident that he was not interested in her. He avoided her as much as possible, and when she managed to speak to him, he averted his gaze and mumbled a quick response before leaving.

Finally, when he could take it no longer, he went to see Hermione.

"She's not going to leave you alone until you ask her out," Hermione sighed. "Either that, or you just admit that you have no feelings for her."

"Then she'll wonder why I went to Hogsmeade with her at all," Harry replied.

"Well then, you'll just have to tell her the truth," said Hermione. "Just tell her that you wanted to go as friends, and that she's taken the whole thing out of context."

With Hermione's reassurances that Cho would understand, he approached her before class and asked to have a word with her. As they pulled away from her giggling friends, Harry cleared his throat and tried to select the proper words.

"Oh, Harry, I was just going to come and speak to you," she smiled brightly, before he could begin his well-prepared speech. "I was wondering if you wanted to get together and study after dinner."

"Er, look, Cho," he said. As soon as he had spoken those words her face fell slightly, and so he rushed on to say, "I'd love to study with you tonight. But I just wanted to make sure that we're on the same page, and that you know that we're...just friends. You're a good friend of mine, and I like spending time with you, and I hope you know that I don't have any romantic feelings for you."

"Oh, I know," she said in a small voice. "Don't worry, Harry."

"So we'll study tonight?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Actually, I just remembered that I have to catch up on something else. I'll see you around."

And before he could protest she rushed off with her friends, who immediately swarmed around her and demanded to have to conversation repeated to them. Sighing in frustration, Harry stormed off to the Library in hopes of finding Hermione. He was not disappointed: she was sitting with Neville, Luna and Ron, surrounded by books.

"I told her," Harry said shortly.

Hermione looked up in surprise as he took a seat next to her. "Really? That was fast. What did she say?"

"She looked like she was ready to cry," Harry growled. "I told her that I liked her as a friend, and that we could still study together, but she got upset and left."

"Harry, why would you tell her that you want to study with her?" Hermione asked reproachfully. "You hate studying with Cho."

"Cho?" Ron asked, distracted from his homework. "I thought you fancied her."

"Of course he doesn't," Hermione snapped. "Harry's with—" She cut herself off, eyeing Harry apologetically.

"Professor Snape," Luna provided, no doubt under the impression that Hermione had simply forgotten.

"Yes, Luna, thank you," Harry said through gritted teeth. Aware that he had now turned a brilliant shade of red, he made to change the subject. "The point is, now she hates me."

"Oh, she doesn't hate you, Harry," Hermione assured him. "She's just disappointed, that's all."

"Well, she better get over it soon," Harry grumbled, putting his hands to his forehead and leaning onto the table. He could almost hear Severus reprimanding him for his posture, and so he sunk forward even further for good measure.

"I'm sure she will," Hermione said. "And in the meantime, you have homework you should be doing."

Harry rolled his eyes and chose not to reply. Sensing his resistance, Hermione grew irritable.

"Harry, just because Severus is gone, it doesn't mean that you can just give up on school," she told him sternly.

Harry froze, then slowly rose out of his chair. Without sparing the others a look he rushed out of the Library, dimly aware of Hermione calling after him. His blood was boiling, and he could hardly believe what she had said. How could she understand? She would never know what it felt like. Now that Severus was gone, he couldn't take his mind off of him. Instead of trying to understand the properties of his potions ingredients, he was too busy thinking of ways to contact his lover. While most of the students were lounging in the Common Room, playing chess or reading, Harry was writing novel-length letters to Severus.

It had become too much, and Harry knew that he couldn't stay here any longer. His fate was with two people: Voldemort, and Severus. It no longer had anything to do with educating himself at the castle, and now that he had accepted that reality, there was one person he needed to run it by. Gathering his courage, he proceeded to Dumbledore's office after quickly uttering the password ("Ginger pudding").

"Come in," Dumbledore beckoned the moment Harry knocked on the door. He followed the order, walking into the familiar room with ease. He had been here many times over the course of the year, detailing his progress to Dumbledore regarding the spells that he was supposed to be learning. His studying of Dumbledore's book had also taken a severe hit since Severus had left: he was hardly interested in even the most potent of spells anymore.

"Harry," the Headmaster greeted. He almost sounded relieved to see him: Harry had been avoiding most everyone recently.

"I have something to tell you, sir," he admitted, taking a seat. Now that he was in Dumbledore's office, the man eyeing him peacefully from across the desk, it was harder to summon the fury and despair that he had felt but five minutes ago. When he did not receive a response, he continued, "I think I want to leave Hogwarts."

There was a silence, during which Dumbledore's face did not betray any emotion. He simply raised his eyebrows, as though inviting Harry to continue.

"I can't stay here anymore," Harry explained. "I miss Severus too much, and I can't be bothered with my classes anymore. I want to be able to concentrate on Voldemort, but with Severus gone, and my classes, it's too much work."

Dumbledore exhaled. "Harry, I'm not sure if this is the right decision."

"I would come back," Harry said quickly. "Once Voldemort is gone, I'll be back."

"That could take many years," Dumbledore said.

"It's going to take even longer if I just sit here and wait to get over Severus," Harry argued helplessly. "People are dying every day, and I'm so torn up over the whole thing that I can't even open up the book you gave me and try to learn something. I'm failing all my classes, and that's just more stress than I can cope with. I'll get out, learn everything I need to know, take care of Voldemort, and come back and finish up."

Dumbledore, to Harry's amazement, nodded slowly. "I see."

"Can I leave, then?"

"It is not my decision to make," Dumbledore replied. "If you truly feel that it would be in your best interests to leave the school, then you may do so. I believe that the Weasleys would be happy to have you."

"Wouldn't that be too dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort expects you to be here," said Dumbledore. "He would not bother to search the Burrow. In any case, very few of the Order go there nowadays, and so I doubt that he would take much notice. I would, of course, have to set up extra wards."

"I can help," Harry offered. He felt guilty of making Dumbledore work more than he already was, and he remembered Severus asking him long ago not to go to the Headmaster for anything.

"It should not take too long," Dumbledore smiled. "I'm quite capable. But Harry, are you really sure of this?"

"I am," he said immediately. "I'll be back before long, anyways. It's just too much stress right now."

"I ask you to give it one more week," the man replied. "Then, at the end of the week, if you are still not content, you may leave for the Burrow at once."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, gratitude flowing through him like medicine. He felt the stress of the day fade away, only to be replaced with anticipation. But there was still something nagging at the back of his mind. "Er, Professor Dumbledore, sir? One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Do you know if Severus is getting my letters?" he asked hopefully.

Dumbledore watched him with a guarded expression, and did not reply for several moments. Finally, he said, "No, Harry. I do not."

Harry felt his spirits fall miserably, but he did not want to show it. "Alright. Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore inclined his head and clasped his hands in silence as Harry left the study.


	21. Dear Remus

**Chapter 21**

"I can't believe you're _actually_ leaving," Hermione said angrily, storming about the boy's dorm.

"Well, I am," Harry replied. His tone was cold and he was doing everything in his power not to blow up on her entirely.

"You're just going to give up your entire education?" she demanded, hands on her hips. She had finally stopped pacing.

"He'll be back once You-Know-Who is gone," said Ron. "Right, Harry?"

"Oh, don't tell me you believe that tosh, Ron," Hermione snapped. "I know exactly what this is about. Professor Snape."

Harry threw the book that he had been reading down in disgust. "Get out."

Hermione frowned. "No, Harry. I know that you're just going to go off and find Professor Snape, when he'd really rather—"

"You don't know him," Harry cut her off, forcing himself to stay calm. "You don't know what he wants, or what he'd rather that I do. Now get out."

Hermione cast a pleading look at Ron, who simply shrugged. She left the dorm, muttering furiously under her breath. Ron rose to follow her, when Harry held up a hand.

"Don't go," he said. "You're not bothering me. It's _her._" Ron sat back down in his bed. "Let her stew for a while."

"You knew she'd act this way, mate," Ron reasoned with him.

"I still had to tell her," Harry replied in a tired voice. "Just like I knew you were going to be the world's biggest prat once I told you that I was with Severus. All the same, I still had to let you know."

Ron grimaced but chose to change the subject. "Is that really why you want to leave, though? For Snape?"

Harry deliberated for a few moments, wondering how honest he should be. Finally, he said, "Part of it."

Ron gave a low whistle, but otherwise said nothing. He began to turn a pillow in his hands, seemingly lost in thought.

"But don't tell that to Hermione," Harry said after a moment. "She'll kill me."

"She'll come around," Ron said. Harry remembered when Hermione had told him those exact same words in regards to Ron.

"Yeah, maybe," said Harry. "Anyways, I should probably start packing."

"You don't leave until Friday," Ron frowned. "That's a whole week away.

"I know, but, I think Hermione's going to try and intervene."

They both laughed.

"She probably would," Ron chuckled. "Hide all your socks or something."

Harry snorted and began to shuffle through his trunk. As he pulled up a slim book he heard a _clunk_ and jumped in alarm. Worried that he had broken an inkpot or the like, he burrowed past the mountain of broken quills, books, and pieces of parchment until he came to the bottom of the trunk. Scraping his fingers across the wood, he finally felt something cool and hard touch his knuckles. Pulling it out, he groaned as Severus' watch twinkled in the fading sunlight that was pouring into the room.

There was a hard, solid lump in Harry's throat that he tried to swallow in vain. He remembered clearly those wonderful moments when Severus had given him the watch: he had not been expecting a present, and certainly never one of this kind.

"You miss him, don't you?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry nodded, incapable of speech, and set the watch on his wrist. He shoved his palm into his eyes in an attempt to stop the flow of tears that was now threatening to overcome him: it would do nothing to cry.

"I'm sorry," Ron nearly whispered. "When I told all of them, I was just so _shocked_. I had never expected it. I told them without thinking, and now..." He trailed off, looking as though he was ready to cry as well.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, trying his best to seem cheery. "I'll be with him soon enough. It's only a matter of time before I get an owl back from him."

"Any idea where he is?" Ron asked hopefully.

"I have no clue," Harry sighed. "I really think he's with the Order. Lupin can't go out much, right? So maybe Severus is doing the same..."

He suddenly gasped, staring at Ron.

"What?" his friend asked. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"That's it, Ron," Harry breathed, excitement swelling inside of him like a balloon. "I'll owl Lupin. If Severus is with the Order, he's bound to tell me. McGonagall wouldn't: Dumbledore's probably told all of the teachers to keep quiet about where he's gone to. But Lupin..."

He grabbed a quill, some ink, and a bit of parchment. Hardly aware that Ron was still present, he began to write, heart thumping. Harry and Lupin were very close: he considered him to be something of a father figure. Surely he would give him the answers he so desperately needed.

Ron waited in silence as Harry finished his letter, but he did not wait long: Harry was soon reading out to him what he had written.

_Dear Remus,_

_How are you? Everything's going quite well over here. I don't know if you've heard, but I'm thinking of leaving Hogwarts. I'd fancy seeing you once I left. I should be at the Burrow, if you'd like to come and see me sometime after this Friday. I was just wondering, have you heard from Snape lately? He's left the school, and we were just wondering if he had gone to stay with you lot._

_Best wishes,_

_Harry_

"He won't mind that you call him 'Remus'"? Ron frowned.

"He told me to call him that ages ago," Harry explained. "Given he's not my professor anymore, and, well, that _is_ his name, it's logical. But you don't think it's too obvious, what I wrote?"

"No, it's alright. He probably hasn't heard anything of you and Snape," Ron replied.

"I've got to go and find Hedwig," Harry announced, rising from his bed, "so I guess I'll catch you later."

"I'll come too," said Ron quickly. "I was just about to head down and get something to eat, anyways."

Though Harry said nothing as he stepped out of the dorm, he was grateful for Ron's decision to accompany him. Coming to the Owlery to deliver a letter to Severus clearly meant that, in some way, Ron was willing to accept the relationship.

"Does this mean," Ron asked as they walked into the room filled with straw and owl droppings, "that if you find out where Snape is, you'll stay here?"

"Maybe," Harry replied, extending a hand to Hedwig. She hopped forward onto his arm, clearly pleased to have his company: he had been visiting her quite often lately, and what with the sudden lapse in his attendance, she had no doubt grown worried.

Ron held Hedwig while Harry attached his letter, and after giving the snowy owl a few affectionate strokes, the latter flew off. It was already nearing dusk outside, and so the boys decided to go to the Great Hall and eat.

All throughout dinner, Harry was in much higher spirits: he was possibly going to receive a letter from Lupin soon, detailing Severus' precise location. Every time he thought of this, his heart beat faster and his stomach flopped around, and so Harry decided to concentrate on his meal, rather than wonder when his letter would arrive.

The moment Harry and Ron returned to the Common Room, Hermione approached them.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"We went to send an owl," Harry replied. Deciding that it was best if he told her the truth, he added, "I asked Lupin where Severus was."

Hermione pursed her lips, but before she could reply, Ron groaned.

"Hermione, save it," he said. "It's just an honest question. And this way, Harry said he wouldn't leave Hogwarts."

"_Maybe_," Harry reminded him. "Depending on what kind of an answer I get."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Hermione asked stiffly. "In the meantime, you both have Defence Against the Dark Arts homework."

Though Harry hardly felt like working, he went and sat with Hermione anyways, allowing her to explain to him the proper way of dealing with a sphinx.

"Why should we have to learn this?" Ron asked. "Harry's already gotten by one, hasn't he?"

"Yes, Ronald, he has," Hermione replied, "but you haven't. Besides, everyone should know about the kind of questions they ask. They usually revolve around a certain theme, for example, which you'll find usually involve..."

Harry allowed her voice to wash over him, though he wasn't concentrating on the individual words. She had barely begun to explain to them precisely what they had to write for their essays, however, when they heard a tapping at the window. It was Hedwig.

"Already?" Ron asked in surprise.

Harry leapt up in surprise, granting Hedwig entrance to the Common Room. She shook her white feathers of rain and offered her leg dutifully. Harry quickly untied his letter, pet Hedwig, and watched as she soared out the window and into the night sky.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked sharply.

Harry did not need further encouragement; he all but ripped the letter open in his eagerness to read the response.

* * *

Eep. Please don't hate me. I love you all! I really do! The next chapter will prove it, I swear.


	22. Return to the Burrow

**Chapter 22**

I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger in the last chapter--I hope you all still love me! As an apology, I've gone and made this chapter longer than usual. I hope you all enjoy it, and remember to review if possible. It took a long time to write this, and it was done after I returned from spending a couple of days with my girlfriend, so I was exhausted to begin with. But I love all of you, so here it is. Take good care, everyone.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Kindly refrain from asking about Snape's whereabouts in the future. Yes, I've heard what you're doing. We'll discuss this further at the place that you will be headed. Please don't mention it in any other letters._

_Remus_

Harry crumpled the note in his fist after having read it out loud. Before Hermione could ask to see it, he threw it into the fire, feeling a slight burst of satisfaction as he watched it curl into itself.

"Harry," said Hermione, "it's not that bad. He could still be with the Order."

"Dumbledore's told them not to tell me," he growled, sitting into an armchair. "He's told them not to tell me a damned thing. He's trying to keep me away from him."

"Maybe I can owl Fred and George," Ron offered weakly. "They like you, mate. I'm sure they'd say something."

"Forget about it," Harry grumbled, shaking his head. "I don't want to get them in trouble. It doesn't matter, anyways. I'm sure he'll try to find me once I'm out of Hogwarts."

"So you're still leaving?" Hermione asked sadly.

"I have no other choice, Hermione," was the reply. "I'm failing all my classes, I can't sleep, I can barely eat, and I'm making no progress with Dumbledore's book. Maybe a change of scenery will help things." He ran his hand through his hair, staring into the fire. Remus' note was no longer visible.

"Do you think you'll find him?" Hermione's face showed evident concern.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know anymore. I want to, but Severus is a genius. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be."

"And if he wants to be?" Ron suggested.

"Then he'll come for me," Harry said. "He'll find me, and we'll work this out together."

-o-

The week went by quickly. Harry did not bother with his assignments: he was not completing a final exam, and so he would not be receiving any grades for the school year. Instead, 

Dumbledore had told him that he would have to restart from where he left off the moment he had stepped into the man's office. That way, the entire year had not been a waste.

With that being said, albeit the fact that Harry no longer had to pay attention in class, Harry had a large amount of things to do. There was packing, first of all, which took a large amount of time. He found that he was ridiculously inefficient in comparison to past years, and supposed that this was because in the past he had been packing with the knowledge that he was returning. Now, regardless of what he told his friends or teachers, the fact that he was coming back was uncertain. While he was in the castle, yes, he expected to continue his education once Voldemort was gone; but while living at the Burrow, that ambition could change. Perhaps he would become Severus' assistant, and the man could open a business to brew potions.

It was this fantasy that kept him going. As swarms of people came to shake his hand, offer him hugs, and bid him farewell, he reminded himself of the future that was only open to him if he left. Of course, Severus had barely even mentioned it, but what he had said stuck with Harry clearly than almost anything else: a small business in which he would brew potions and customers would buy them from a quaint little shop in Hogsmeade. Harry could help him by stocking the shelves, working the till, and keeping order in the products.

In this fantasy, Harry and Snape lived together. In this fantasy, the outside world was not forcing them apart, telling them that their relationship was "wrong" and "disgusting", as many Hogwarts students and the Daily Prophet were both fond of doing. In this fantasy, they were in love, and working together as true partners, and that was all that mattered.

These dreams brought Harry to Dumbledore's office Friday morning, luggage in tow. He had given hugs to Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, and now that he had all of his possessions, he was ready to go.

When he voiced this, Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"Are you quite sure, Harry? There is still time to decide that you are staying. The morning classes have yet to start."

"No, sir," Harry replied. "I'm ready to leave." And he was. He could hardly sit still for excitement.

"Very well, then," the old wizard sighed. "I have created a portkey that will bring you to The Burrow in exactly seven minutes. Before you go, I must ask that you continue to study the book I gave you as diligently as ever." When Harry nodded, he continued, "I must also request that you do not leave the house. Voldemort will hear tell, before long, that you have left Hogwarts. Though he should not suspect that you have fled to stay with the Weasleys, he may post a few spies just in case. He is becoming more and more cautious, Harry, and I fear that we shall have to be doubly so."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed. "I'll stay there."

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled. He rose from his chair and set a broken quill before Harry. "This is the portkey. I suggest you take hold of it."

Harry followed directions, grasping the quill as though it was a life preserver. Any second now, he knew, he would be whisked away from the castle. But before he left, he needed to ask Dumbledore something.

"Sir? Why can't I know where Severus is?"

Dumbledore frowned.

"I sent an owl to Remus," Harry explained quickly, wondering how much time they had left, "and he told me not to ask him anymore."

"It is not of my doing, I assure you," Dumbledore said. He seemed to be concerned. "I shall look into the matter. In any case, Remus would not know where Severus is: none of us do at present."

Harry's heart sank, but before he could ask another question, he felt himself being plucked up by the navel and carried away. He shut his eyes tight, for fear of being sick, and did his best to ignore the fact that he was travelling miles away in a matter of seconds. Finally, he plopped down onto the floor, stomach churning.

"Oh, Harry, dear!" came a familiar voice. He blinked several times and looked up, only to see Mrs Weasley rushing towards him.

"Mrs Weasley," he said, jumping to his feet. He meant to hold out his hand, but in a matter of seconds, she had her warm arms tight around him.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed. Pulling away, she looked him over, and shook her head. "Underfed, as usual. And you spent the summer at Hogwarts, too! I don't understand it. Come, dear, let's get you something to eat."

She led him into the kitchen, from which the wonderful smell of bacon and eggs was wafting. Bill and Mr Weasley were sitting at the kitchen table. Both were wearing their pyjamas, and their red hair was in a state of chaos with which Harry could relate.

"Harry!" Bill cried, leaping up to shake his hand; the table wobbled from the impact. "Harry, how are you? We didn't know you'd be getting here so soon—Dumbledore hadn't said—"

"Here, Harry, come sit next to me," Mr Weasley offered, pulling out a chair.

Harry took the seat graciously, and before he could so much as open his mouth, Bill began to speak as quickly as possible.

"Remus contacted me just last night," he said. "He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry for not giving you the information that you wanted, but the person in question forbade everyone from doing so. He also wanted me to tell you that he'll be over for dinner tonight, so you two can talk then."

"Remus, too?" Mrs Weasley asked before setting a plate filled with eggs and bacon in front of Harry. "Didn't Tonks say she was coming?"

"Not for dinner," said Bill, accepting a plate similar to Harry's and passing one on to his father. "She can't make it."

"Kingsley?"

"He'll be here," Bill grinned, "he said that he's hoping you'll make chicken again."

Mrs Weasley laughed, untying her apron and hanging it up near the door. "Yes, well, I'll be sure to fix something up for him."

"Isn't Number 12 being used as headquarters for the Order?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well yes," said Mrs Weasley, "but it's grown far too busy over there. More and more people are joining, you see, and so The Burrow is offered to everyone who needs a place to stay. Tonks and Kingsley are usually here, and Remus stops by regularly."

"Haven't seen Snape lately," Bill commented. "I wonder what he's up to."

Before he could help himself, Harry let his fork and knife fall, a lump hardening at the base of his throat. He had hardly expected to hear his lover's name within ten minutes of his arrival.

As he picked up his cutlery and resumed his eating, Mrs Weasley cast him a worried look and said, "Yes, well, I'm sure he's around. Bill, would you go out and feed the chickens?"

Bill finished chewing his last bit of egg, nodded, and left the kitchen. Harry felt himself grow hot as Mrs Weasley came and sat in front of him: she had no doubt wanted to speak to him privately. This was confirmed when she gave her husband a long, piercing look, and Mr Weasley suddenly leapt up as though electrocuted.

"Ah, yes!" he gasped. "I was meaning to go out and check on something. If you'll excuse me."

He left the table, so that only Mrs Weasley and Harry were now left in the cramped kitchen.

"Harry," she said in a low voice. "Hermione told me what happened between Severus and yourself."

Harry was now flushed a deep scarlet. "She did?"

"Yes, and I can't pretend that I wasn't a bit shocked at first," Mrs Weasley admitted. "However, I've had time to think, and...you _are_ getting older. In a matter of time, you'll be of age. I suppose that so long as Severus treats you properly, there isn't much that I can do." She seemed to regret this deeply. "All the same, Harry, I wish that you hadn't left Hogwarts to find him."

"That's not why I left," Harry told her. "I left because I have some things I need to study, to help me with the fight against Voldemort, and with my classes I couldn't concentrate. It's better that I get away from my studies and work on this, and then once that's done, I go back to school."

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "I suppose so." She rose and took his plate.

"You can have Ron's room while you're here," she said. "If you'd like to bring your things up, I'm sure you remember where it is. If you need anything, please let me know."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," said Harry. He took his luggage and climbed up the stairs. He was glad, at any rate, that Mrs Weasley had not tried to get him to return to Hogwarts: it was the type of thing that she would do. He knew that she wasn't entirely happy with the situation, and that she was probably still uncomfortable about Severus and Harry's relationship, but he appreciated the effort that she was making to keep this hidden from him.

It did not take him long to settle in Ron's old room. Most of his things, he decided, could be left in his trunk for convenience. He put a few of his shirts in a wooden dresser, stacked some books on the table by the bed, and shortly after he made to take a quick nap.

He felt as though he had barely shut his eyes, however, when Mrs Weasley knocked on the door.

"Harry?" she whispered. "I hope I haven't woken you, dear, but Remus is here. He'd like to speak to you."

Harry felt any of his previous exhaustion leave him at once. All he could think of was running down to Remus and bombarding him with questions. However, the moment Mrs Weasley closed the door, he realised that he needed to smarten up a bit. He straightened his shirt, smoothed down his hair, set his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and arranged his pants. Satisfied, he made to head down to the kitchen, when hoarse whispers caught his attention. He paused at the head of the staircase, straining his ears. It sounded as though a screaming match was taking place, though those caught up in the argument were whispering.

"I don't like it, Remus, what he says," Mrs Weasley hissed.

"Molly, listen to me, please," the other party said. "I know this isn't what any of us wanted for Harry, and certainly not what we expected. But he seems to be happy with Severus, at least. He deserves that, doesn't he?"

"What he deserves," she snapped, "is two responsible adults who can decide who he should be with. Currently, neither of us is doing that."

"We can't decide for him," said Lupin. "He's old enough now, Molly. I trust Harry's judgement, as much as I do Severus'. I trust Dumbledore's as well, I might add."

Harry let his foot sink onto the first step, grateful for the loud noise it provided. Both of the kitchen's occupants jumped away from each other; Lupin took a seat and Mrs Weasley busied herself with a stack of books. She was just bringing it into the sitting room when Harry neared the table.

"Harry," said Remus, beaming. "How wonderful to see you. How are you?"

"I'm good," he smiled back. "You?"

"Good, good," was the answer.

They were silent as Harry took a seat, but the moment they were properly installed, Remus began.

"I'm so sorry about my letter, Harry," Remus sighed. "But I had to send it quickly, and I had to make it so that if someone read it, they couldn't figure out what I meant. No one should know that you are leaving, nor should they know that you are here."

"Sorry," Harry grimaced. "I got so excited when I thought of sending you an owl to ask where Severus was, that I hadn't thought about all that."

"It's alright," said Lupin softly. "But as for your question, I haven't the slightest idea where Severus is. All I know is that he's in correspondence with Dumbledore, and he's still acting as Voldemort's spy. He's told him that Dumbledore was getting suspicious, and so he had to leave as soon as possible."

Harry frowned. "Doesn't Voldemort keep up with the Daily Prophet? It's been all over the news, how he supposedly raped me and left."

"Yes, he has," said Lupin. "But that's precisely why Voldemort trusts him. Severus has proved that he is willing to hurt you if it helps their cause: something many wizards are afraid of doing, in case Dumbledore tracks them down. By the time he was done explaining what he had tried to do, I think Voldemort believed the plan was his own."

"What did he say he was trying to do?"

"Nobody knows except for Dumbledore," was the uncertain reply. "Though I thought I heard that Moody knew something about it. But anyways, that's not the point. What matters is that he's somewhere far away, we figure abroad, and still helping the Order as much as he can."

Harry nodded, swallowing this information with difficulty. If nobody knew where Severus was, certainly he was not interested in being contacted or found. His hopes of being reunited with the man had just been ruined, but he was determined not to let that show.

"Now Harry," Lupin said suddenly, his expression stern. "Why is it that you've left Hogwarts?"

Harry exhaled, wondering just how many times he would have to explain himself regarding this particular decision. He quickly summarized what he had told Mrs Weasley, making sure to accentuate the fact that his decision had nothing to do with finding his lover. Once he had finished, Remus appeared to be satisfied, for he did nothing other than smile and nod.

"Reasonable, of course," he muttered. "How have you been coming along with this book that Dumbledore has given you?"

"Alright, until about a month ago," Harry admitted. "But now that I'm out of school, it's bound to be easier."

"Good," said Remus. "Well, I've got to make a quick run before Molly starts dinner. I'll see you soon, Harry."

After receiving an affectionate clap on the shoulder and bidding the older man goodbye, Harry returned to his temporary room. His mind was buzzing with the news he had just received. Severus' whereabouts were not known to the Order, or even Dumbledore himself. How could Harry expect to know where the previous Potions professor was, if none of these other important people knew?

"Because he loved me," Harry murmured, laying his head on the pillow. "That's what you do when you love someone. You try to be with them."

As this thought caused him to feel an even sharper flow of depression, he allowed himself to sink into a peaceful sleep. He still had an hour until dinner, after all.


	23. The Plan

**Chapter 23**

Harry had barely woken the next day when he heard a knock on the door. Pulling up his jeans, he granted the visitor entry, and Mr Weasley stepped into the room.

"Good, you're awake," he said. "The Order is here on Dumbledore's orders."

"Did something happen?" Harry asked, fear pushing itself onto him immediately. He thought of Severus, and of his friends at Hogwarts, and wondered what was going on.

"No, no." Mr Weasley smiled and shook his head. "It's just a meeting to discuss what we're going to do next."

Harry sighed with relief. "I'll be down in three minutes."

Mr Weasley left him to finish combing out his hair. He tried to employ the technique that Severus had previously used; the man had been capable of making Harry's hair look, at the very least, presentable. Several failed attempts later, he was quite sure that he did not possess such skill.

Harry seemed to enter the kitchen just on time: the Order members had begun to take their seats. Nobody spoke as Harry sat next to Remus, but Tonks winked at him, and Dumbledore smiled briefly in his direction.

Many of the faces around him were familiar. He saw Dedalus Diggle and Mundungus Fletcher in deep conversation, sitting somewhat apart from the others; Elphias Doge was reading from a long list reaching well onto the floor; Mad-Eye Moody was watching Harry carefully with his magical eye; Hestia Jones had her head bowed, and was listening to Kingsley Shacklebolt. There were also many people that he didn't recognize: most of these folk were standing, due to a lack of chairs in the kitchen. Their arms were crossed, their expressions were stern, and their eyes were fixed on Dumbledore.

Harry caught Mr Weasley's eye as he stepped through the front door, closely followed by Bill and Charlie. The three men appeared to be severely worn out, and Harry wondered if they had been up all night.

"Welcome all," Dumbledore said, eyes sweeping the room. "I would first of all like to thank each of you for coming. I know that in the present climate, excuses to leave work and other obligations can often fail even the most clever of us. Your devotion is appreciated." He paused, seemed to hesitate, then continued, "I must proceed directly to the point of this meeting, for my time here is short. In but a few hours, I must meet with the Minister himself, in order to discuss future plans. I suspect that you have all deduced the reason for this meeting. Voldemort is growing stronger, and his army is expanding on a daily basis. The time has come to act. Harry?"

Harry started at the mention of his name, and he felt himself flush as the entire room turned to look at him. Tonks was smirking. "Yes, sir?"

"Would you fetch the book I gave you?" he asked kindly.

Harry nodded and leapt from his chair, grateful to get out of the room for a few moments. He felt as though he were some sort of rare artefact, being carefully examined by each member of the Order. It did not take him long to find the book: he had left it on his dresser the night before. He had half a mind to remain in Ron's bedroom for a few more minutes, such was his dread at returning to the kitchen where all eyes were on him, and yet he had the feeling that Moody was watching him with his magical eye. He therefore heaved a sigh and brought the book to Dumbledore, who nodded in appreciation.

"This book," he said, speaking over the noise of Harry's chair scraping on the floor, "is filled with many powerful incantations. Many of them are no longer taught at Hogwarts, nor are they known to the general population. Harry has been studying from this book in hopes of learning spells with which he may combat Voldemort."

Remus frowned. "I wasn't aware that Harry would have to do any actual fighting."

"He will," Dumbledore said grimly. "I have told you all about the prophecy regarding Harry and Voldemort. In the end, one must kill the other. It is the only way."

Silence reigned heavily among them, as these words weighed on their minds. Harry was reminded of a year prior when he had learned the same news in Dumbledore's office. It all seemed to be decades ago, though it had been less than twelve months since he had come to understand his fate.

"This prophecy," said a witch that Harry didn't recognize, "Voldemort knows it, yes?" She spoke in a deep voice, and the way that she held herself caused Harry to feel a strange sense of appreciation for her. She reminded him forcefully of Severus: the same expression, the same tone, the same body language. Even her black hair recalled something of Severus' own locks. He wondered vaguely if they were related.

Dumbledore nodded, and the witch seemed to stiffen. She cast a dark look to the man beside her, and watched him closely as he spoke.

"You must excuse her," the wizard said, "for my wife knew the woman who gave the prophecy quite well. When she heard that Trelawney had been overheard, well...Rosaline was upset, to say the least."

"Is there no honour among us these days?" Rosaline demanded. "We simply listen at doors until we hear something of interest? Sibyll could be killed after giving such information away and having it overheard."

"Professor Trelawney is safely teaching at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "No harm shall come to her."

When the witch said nothing, Charlie asked, "Is there a plan? If Harry must be the one to kill Voldemort, we should be able to help him, at least."

"And we shall," Dumbledore said quickly. "A plan has been created to make this as foolproof as possible. First and foremost, Harry must learn to defend himself in any situation. This part of the plan, he has been executing perfectly. We must then find a way to lure Voldemort into a type of trap. I am of the opinion that we would do best to take the offensive this time around, as he is sure to do the same. Alastor and I have decided that it would be best to feed Voldemort false information assuring him that Harry will be staying with a certain wizarding family. The Jones," Dumbledore indicated both pink-cheeked Hestia and a blonde man to her left, "have offered their residence to us for this cause. We shall have Severus act as secret keeper, and offer Voldemort Harry's soon-to-be whereabouts. Voldemort shall no doubt attack, and at that moment, we shall do our best to keep him there until Harry can deliver the final blow."

There was silence as they reflected on the plan.

"Much could go wrong," Mr Weasley finally said. "One curse in Harry's direction and...that is the end of it."

"I agree," said Tonks, her voice small. She had lost much of her usual cheeriness. "But it's the best we've got. Either way, Harry's at risk. Will he be able to wear his Cloak?" She addressed this question to Dumbledore, who nodded at once.

"We shall take all precautions necessary to ensure that Harry must simply arrive at the house, wait to have a clear shot, and perform the curse," he said.

"I'll do it," Harry announced. He cringed at how meek his voice sounded, and yet he continued to say, "It's the best we've got at the moment, like Tonks said, and it's worth the risk. I've learned loads of spells, and with all of you there, everything should be alright."

They stared at him in surprise, though Dumbledore was beaming.

"I shall be back at a later date to discuss further details with each of you," the Headmaster said. "Though I truly must depart for the Ministry."

The meeting was hence broken up: a flow of conversation began, many of those seated rose from their chairs, and Dumbledore turned to have a quick word with Mrs Weasley. Harry meant to speak to the man for a second, but before he could so much as open his mouth, his vision was blocked as Kingsley Shacklebolt went to have a word with Hestia. When he finally got to the other side of the kitchen, Dumbledore was gone.

-o-

"Harry," said Remus. "I was wondering if we could talk."

Harry was sitting out on the porch, observing the setting sun. Dumbledore's book was perched on his lap, and while he had been reading it, the beauty of the canvas before him had been far more captivating than black characters on a yellowed page. He watched the reds and the yellows intertwine, making way for the glorious pink that dominated the sky, and wondered if Severus was watching the sunset as well.

When Harry was silent, Remus said, "I've heard a bit of what happened with you and Severus, but I was wondering if you'd like to explain it all to me."

"There's not much to say," Harry sighed. He had left Hogwarts to rid the man from his mind, and yet his lover seemed to be much more in his face than ever. "I hated him, and when I got to know him, I didn't hate him at all. I fell in love with him. And then we spent time together, got to know each other even more...and we were caught."

"That must have been terrible." Remus' face was filled with sympathy, and Harry felt grateful. He was evidently making an effort to be understanding, which was more than could be said for many people.

"It was hard," Harry agreed. "I miss him a lot. He won't even send me a letter, you know?" Though his voice cracked at these last few words, Harry refused to succumb to tears. Severus would not have wanted him to cry.

"He probably figures that it's for the best," said Remus. "I'm sure he won't hide from you forever."

Harry had nothing to say, for he held no answers. He was not sure of Severus' intentions, and if it were not that Dumbledore was in contact with him, he would have guessed that his former professor was dead.

"I can't say that I wasn't surprised," the older man chuckled suddenly. "It took a while before I believed it, actually. But when it sunk in, and I realised that it was true..." He turned to Harry, his expression serious. "I support you in this. There are going to be people who don't support you, and who will call the relationship terrible things, and ignore the fact that you're happy. Some people have closed minds, and they won't realise that you're almost of age, or that Severus is an intelligent and mature man. Some people will see the basics of it and look down on the whole thing, while others are going to dig a little bit deeper and come accept it."

Again, Harry said nothing, but these words struck home. And somehow, by the way that he smiled and continued to look into the night sky, Remus made it known that he was aware of Harry's emotions. Remus knew that many times words could not express what one was feeling, and so they sat in a comfortable silence, watching the sun sink well below the horizon.

* * *

This chapter was hard for me to write. I guess because this is where the plan to kill Voldemort was first revealed, and I wanted it to be plausible. I had problems with the whole JKR Horcrux thing. It just came off as weak. Because, you know, I'm going to go split my soul into different pieces and just leave them laying around wherever. Why not? A big room full of junk at Hogwarts? Why not. Yeah, sure, the man who's Headmaster there is the person I fear more than anyone else, but whatever. A random cave in the middle of nowhere with obstacles? Why not. Gives it a Zelda, video game sort of feel. And of course, Bellatrix is perfectly dependable for a piece of my soul. Yeah, sure, she failed to get a prophecy from a group of kids a few years ago, but whatever, a minor setback. But who cares, right? They're only pieces of my _soul_, and I'm only more terrified than everything else of dying. Big deal.

Sorry for my mini-rant, but it was just so...unlikely. To me, it makes much more sense to have a plan to draw Voldemort in and attack him dead on, not run around the countryside searching for Horcruxes. I also feel it would have made a better seventh book, instead of watching them spend eons camping in a tent filled with sexual tension. At least we could have seen some awesome plotting against Voldemort, a real war. Not hiding out in the forest. Besides, the Order was just disappointing. I mean, an entire book in the series was named after them, and what have they honestly done? Not all that much when you factor in all the books. And the Death Eaters? They don't seem very threatening, as they seem capable of messing up the most simple of tasks. What I want to do in this book is just really give the Death Eaters, and the Order, a chance to prove that they are very powerful witches and wizards who can fight better than a group of teenagers. Not to mention, while we always heard what an awesome spy Severus was, what did he _do_? Couldn't he have found out the locations of the Horcruxes or something? At least now he seems to have some kind of role in the books as a spy.

Sorry for what has now become a massive rant, but my oh my was I disappointed with how JKR wrote things. I just found it weak, and yeah it made a nice little adventure for Harry and his magical mentor and friends, but was it realistic in a time of war, and was it really the best the seventh book could be? No. Just my opinion though! And given I'm writing the story, I'm going to change it to how I believe things should have happened..a plan to face Voldemort head on. Hope you all enjoyed, please review! They make my day!


	24. Dates and Dreams

**Chapter 24**

As I post this I'm writing chapter 25, so expect that one up shortly. I'm very excited for you all to read this chapter as well as the next. I've also included an OC; I hope she's not a total Mary-Sue and terribly annoying? My goal is for her to fit in with the Harry Potter universe as much as possible. Thank you so much to everyone for reviews; I hope I get many more as we begin to approach the real climax of the story. Take care, everyone.

* * *

By the end of April the weather was considerably warmer, and Harry spent most of his time outdoors. Dumbledore's book in one hand and a drink in the other, he sat on the Weasleys' porch and poured over the spells that he had yet to learn. He had been right in leaving Hogwarts: his concentration was increased tenfold without the worry of classes and homework weighing down on him.

Remus and Tonks were regulars at The Burrow, usually arriving after lunch and staying until dinner. Dumbledore and McGonagall also popped in frequently, as well as most of the other Order members. He was slowly introduced to most of them, and by now could associate the majority of the names with their respective faces.

The witch who had spoken at the meeting, Rosaline, turned out to be much more pleasant than he had expected. Sitting with her on the porch the last day of April proved to be a pleasurable experience: she was both intelligent and an eager listener, and he received much help from her. After getting advice to help him perform one of the more difficult spells, Harry decided that that was enough for one night.

"Well, you don't want to overload yourself," Rosaline laughed, sitting back further into her chair. "So tell me, Harry, how do you enjoy being away from Hogwarts?"

"It's a relief," Harry said immediately. "I don't have classes anymore, I don't have to worry about hiding things from anyone..it's been great."

Rosaline frowned. "Hiding things?"

"You've probably heard of my relationship with Severus," he sighed. "I obviously couldn't tell anyone, but it got out anyways." At his companion's inquiring look, he added, "I told a friend who couldn't keep it to himself."

"Ah," she said. "Of course. There's always that one person who can't keep quiet, isn't there?"

Harry nodded. "I know it's probably not right, and by being with him I've probably lost my marbles, but it feels right."

"Even when you haven't spoken to him in a while?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "Even then. I know he'll come and find me eventually; it's just a matter of time. He told me once that I have to be patient, and that someday we'll be together, when this is all over."

"When what is all over?" she asked softly.

"This war against Voldemort," he replied. "And when I'm older, I guess. Until then...I've got memories of him to keep me sane."

"Some people are driven insane by memories," Rosaline commented. "They can't stop thinking about their lover, and they hate it, and they want it to end. Others cherish their memories, and hold them closely, and find them comforting."

Harry grimaced. "Right now I'm at the second, but in a few months, I might start feeling like the first."

"He'll come and find you."

"How do you know?"

"I know Severus." Rosaline's face was thoughtful as she spoke. "I've known him for many years. If he loves you, as I do believe he does, he'll come back for you. If you miss him, you can't imagine how much he misses you."

"It can't be worse than me," Harry shook his head. "I can't go five minutes without thinking of him."

"Then he can't go five seconds," Rosaline countered. "You've had friends in your life, yes? People who loved you, who would have given anything to make you happy? Severus has never had that. Now imagine finally getting someone like that, someone like you, who loves him, and having it taken away."

Harry felt his guilt return sharper than ever: it was true. While this had been difficult for him, he had had friends to turn to. Severus had no one. What made it worse was that it was entirely of Harry's doing that they were in this mess; he could hardly stand it. He scrunched up his eyes in an attempt to keep himself from crying.

"Don't cry," she muttered, draping her hand across his. Her skin was cold to the touch. "He loves you, and he will come back."

"I don't deserve it," Harry answered, his voice hoarse.

"Don't you?" she asked. "I think you do, and Severus does as well. If he loves you, he must consider you very deserving of that love. He will come back, Harry, and he will show you how much you deserve him."

"I don't know how much longer I can wait," Harry confided.

"Keep your memories of him close," she advised. "For at the moment they're all you have left. Keep them close, and think of him as often as he comes to mind. Don't try to make yourself forget; remember him. This is a temporary separation, I believe, and before long you will both be back together. Have faith."

-o-

"We have a date," Charlie announced as he rushed into the kitchen.

They were sitting at the table, enjoying the chicken that Mrs Weasley had just finished making. It was stormy outside, the rain coming down harder than Harry had ever seen. Charlie's hair was sopping wet, and yet he seemed not to mind, such was his excitement.

"A date?" Mr Weasley demanded, looking up from his plate.

Before Charlie could answer, his mother was rubbing his head forcefully with a towel and leading him to set next to Harry. None of the Order members were present, and so only Harry, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie were present in the cramped kitchen.

"The fifteenth of June," Charlie said the moment his mother pulled away. "That's when we'll head over to the Jones'. Severus is feeding Voldemort the false information as we speak."

Harry's heart leapt at the same moment that a crack of lightning pierced the sky outside. Thunder began to roll.

"Severus?"

He was ignored, however, as Mr Weasley said, "The fifteenth? You're sure, Charlie?"

"Positive," he replied. "Dumbledore just gave the news, and told me to come back here and tell everyone."

"But that's so soon," Mrs Weasley gasped, eyes travelling to Harry. "I thought this wasn't happening for another _year_, at least."

"Another year?" Bill asked grimly. "That's another year's worth of people dead, mum. No, this is the best time to do it." He turned to address his brother. "The plan is the same as always?"

"Same as always," Charlie nodded, accepting a chicken breast and roll from his mother. "Dumbledore will be by sometime next week to see how Harry's progressing. He'll probably stay here for a while, to help him out."

"Of course, of course," Mrs Weasley muttered, heading upstairs. "That's hardly a problem."

"Reckon you'll be ready, Harry?" Charlie's expression turned serious as he face the boy in question.

"I think so, yeah," he replied. They seemed satisfied with his answer, and continued to discuss various details of the plan.

Now that he was being more or less ignored, Harry could reflect on the news in peace. He could hardly believe his ears: Severus was going to Voldemort, possibly the most dangerous wizard alive, to lie to him about plans involving the entire Order. His lover could be killed, and here they all were, discussing battle tactics and the like.

Attempting to keep his voice calm, he said, "Severus will be alright, won't he?"

The kitchen turned silent, and as they turned to look at him, Harry's face grew hot. They seemed unsure of how to answer.

"Harry, Severus will be fine," Mr Weasley assured him. "He's been doing this for many months, and he's had to lie about much worse than this."

"But what if something goes wrong?" Harry insisted. "What if Voldemort escapes, and he's furious with Severus? Or what if the Death Eaters find out who lied to their master and go after him? Anything could happen. There are so many risks, and nobody cares."

"Don't say that, Harry, of course we care," said Bill. "But Severus signed up for this: nobody forced him into anything. He was the first person who volunteered to give Voldemort the information, and Dumbledore thought that he was best suited for the job. Don't think he's just going to be thrown in there and that he'll have to improvise as best as he can; they've planned everything he's going to say."

"Exactly," Charlie agreed. "Dumbledore will have made sure that Severus is as safe as possible during this whole thing. You have nothing to worry about, and neither does he."

Harry nodded and left the table after bidding the others goodnight. Though they seemed genuinely interested in comforting him, their words had done little to assure Harry that his lover was safe. As he crawled into his bed, removed his glasses, and made to sleep, images of Severus swam into his head instantly. He took Rosaline's advice to heart and did not reject them or try to push them away; rather, he stayed still and concentrated on every detail that he could remember of Severus. His eyes, his lips, his nose, his hair...he was soon fast asleep.

-o-

_Severus had barely begun to kiss his neck when he tensed and pulled away. Harry whined, desperate to feel the contact of the man's warm mouth on his skin, but he was silenced by a __finger to his lips. Heart pounding in his ears, he strained to hear above the thudding of his noisy organ. It was dark all around them, and despite the fear radiating off of Severus' body, Harry was still deeply aroused. He needed the man's mouth on him again, and made to steal a kiss, when a sharp noise was heard to his right. He meant to turn on the bedside lamp, but before he could so much as move an inch, Severus had lit the tip of his wand._

_There stood Voldemort, a book in his hands, leering at them._

"_No," Harry shouted, wrapping his arms around Severus' frame protectively. "No, you can't."_

_Voldemort chuckled and held his wand to the book: its spine erupted into flames._

"_No!" Harry shrieked, feeling as though his heart was being ripped from his chest. Voldemort was laughing, and the sound was driving through his head like nails...Severus was fading away into the darkness...Harry could hardly breathe, fear clamping down on his mouth like a wet cloth..._

He woke with a start, nearly tumbling out of his bed. Stomach flipping about, sweat pouring into his eyes, Harry turned on his lamp, and in doing so nearly knocked over the bedside table. He felt as though he was about to be sick, and yet he was not sure why.

What did the book represent? He was certain that he had never seen it before. Examining Dumbledore's book assured him that it was not the same one that had been present in his dream. How could burning something that he had never even seen before cause him so much pain? It drove him insane, trying to figure it out, and yet he knew that he needed his sleep. If Dumbledore was to help him master the spells necessary to defeat Voldemort, he would need all of the rest he could get.

He turned off the light and pulled the sheets up to his chin, trying in vain to banish thoughts of Voldemort from his mind. The rain continued to pour outside, and before falling asleep, he wondered vaguely if it was raining wherever Severus was as well.


	25. A Difficult Decision

**Chapter 25**

I actually got around to naming all of the chapters. I'm so proud of myself. I also changed the story description. Not that the story's plot is changed in any way--I'm still going about this the same as I had planned eons ago--but I didn't like the original summary very much. Anyays, this chapter should more or less explain the title, "Memories." I hope you all enjoy, and don't worry, a happy ending will be arriving shortly. Not without a few twists and turns, of course. I have the final chapter finished just the way I want it, just to make sure that I know what direction this is heading in. I want to get this all done before September 2nd, though that may be difficult; of course, encouraging reviews might help me push myself!

* * *

"This is the only one I'm having trouble with, sir," said Harry. He reached across the desk and pulled the book closer to him. "I can't get it to work right."

"We'll have to work on it," Dumbledore replied gravely. "Very important spell. Let's see, then..."

As Dumbledore began to explain to Harry the correct way of performing the spell, he found it very difficult to pay attention. Of course, it was absolutely essential that he improve his technique: a spell that allowed the user to shield themselves against most spells for several hours could come in handy. But whenever he allowed his mind to stray for a second, he began to think of Severus, and it was next to impossible to stop once he had started.

He missed everything about the man. He missed the way that he explained complex concepts, his voice slow and patient. He missed the way he smelled, the way he tasted when they kissed, even the way that he sarcastically taunted Harry every once in a while. Even out of the castle, it was impossible not to think about him all of the time.

When they had finally finished, Dumbledore asked, "How is your Occlumency coming along?"

"I haven't practiced in a while," Harry admitted. "I've tried clearing my mind once in a while, but it's been hard." When Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow, he continued, "I can't get him out of my head most nights."

He could hardly believe that he had just shared this information with his Headmaster, but the elderly man did not appear to be surprised. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

"I feared this would happen," he sighed. "Harry, if Voldemort invades your mind, it would mean that he would see all of your memories that have to do with Severus. If he were to escape from the Jones', Voldemort's first order of business would be to kill Severus immediately. There would be no hope for him."

Harry exhaled, the possibility of this happening washing over him like cold water. He could not let that happen to his lover, and yet he doubted that he could become accomplished at Occlumency within six weeks.

"What should I do?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"I would suggest a very tricky spell," said Dumbledore, "that would allow me to temporarily remove all of the memories regarding your relationship with Severus from your mind. We would deliver them back to you once Voldemort was taken care of."

"What if it doesn't work?" Harry asked. "What if we try to put back the memories and they won't go in or something?"

"Impossible," Dumbledore assured him. "Harry, I know how much this relationship means to the both of you. I would not suggest the spell if there was a risk of you never having the memories again."

Harry was silent, trying to make up his mind. Finally, he said, "Does Severus know about this?"

"He does," Dumbledore replied. "And he agrees that it would be the best thing to do, for the both of you. He has also agreed that I should be the one who keeps your memory safe."

"Will it go into a Pensieve?"

"No, it will not," was the reply. "A Pensieve can be easily tampered with, and if Voldemort were ever to search for your memories, the Pensieve would be the first place for him to look. We have decided that it would be best to store your recollections into some sort of object."

"Do you know what object?"

"Most likely one of the trinkets in my office," Dumbledore answered. Harry recalled the many fascinating instruments that the Headmaster owned: they were very pretty, though they appeared to be rather useless. "I will keep it in my office, of course, for it would look very odd if Voldemort were to find one of these objects in my cloak."

Harry nodded. "Well then, I guess I have no choice. Does this mean I won't have any idea about my relationship with Severus?"

"You will not," he confirmed. "All those around you shall be told not to mention it to you. All you will know, until Voldemort is defeated, is that he was your Potions professor, and that the two of you were not on good terms."

"All right," Harry agreed. It pained him to say these words, and yet he knew that it was necessary. "It seems like the best option right now."

"It does not need to be done this very moment," Dumbledore said kindly. "If you should like one more night to think it over, relive the memories one last time...I shall be here tomorrow morning to perform the spell."

"Thank you, sir."

"That is all, then," Dumbledore said, sinking back into his chair. "You may leave, and please make sure to practice what we learned here until you have perfected it."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. He took his spell book, bid his former Headmaster goodnight, and left for his bedroom.

-o-

"How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked. They were alone in the kitchen, the morning sunlight making its way into the room. The residents of the house were all asleep, with the exception of Mrs Weasley, who was putting the laundry up on the line outside.

Harry grimaced and said, "Nervous."

"There is nothing to worry about," said Dumbledore. "I am quite skilled as far as this spell goes, given that I have had to use it on multiple occasions. There will be no pain, and when it is over, you will feel as though nothing has happened.

"Right," Harry said, taking a seat at the table. "Well, I'm ready."

And he was. He had gotten no sleep the night before, as he had spent it tossing and turning in his sheets. He could see Severus' face in his mind as vividly as if he were there and he was watching him: sculpted, beautiful, and elegantly masculine, he longed to touch that perfect visage. He recalled their nights spent together in bliss, whispering each other's names and revelling in the divine feeling of skin against skin. He had spent the entire night with those memories, cherishing them, living them over again, and he knew that he had to protect them from Voldemort. Even if it meant temporarily losing them.

The readiness he felt must have been evident on his face, for Dumbledore beamed and lifted his wand.

"It is best to get it over with quickly," he explained. "I must ask you to close your eyes and stay still; I shall do the rest."

Harry followed the orders and shut his eyes tight, fearful of what would happen next.

"When I take your memories, I shall put them in a vial," Dumbledore spoke, "and I will then leave to put them into one of the objects we discussed earlier."

Harry had barely voiced his understanding when he felt something crash heavily onto his head: he wondered wildly if the roof had caved in. He felt no pain, however, and so he managed to keep himself from opening his eyes. All went quiet and he heard no sounds other than the low rumble of Dumbledore's voice; he could not make out the words that he was pronouncing.

He then lost consciousness.

-o-

"Go and take the box downstairs."

"With the other ones?"

"No, no, just that one. Your father should be down there; ask him if he wants these books."

"Right."

Harry opened his eyes slowly, nearly blinded by the bright light before him. He had to blink several times before he could make out the forms of Mrs Weasley, Fred, and George.

He made to speak but coughed instead, alerting them to his presence at once.

"Harry," Mrs Weasley breathed, coming to his side. "I'm so sorry, dear, we didn't mean to wake you."

"That's fine," he mumbled, squinting against the light coming from her wand. It was otherwise dark in the room.

"We were just moving things around for when Ron and Hermione get here," she explained, motioning to a bed in the corner that had not been there before.

"When they get here?" he asked, sitting up. "How long have I been out for?"

"Only a few hours," she said quickly. "But it's already May, and a few other Order members will be staying, so it's good to get everyone comfortable."

Harry watched as the twins grabbed the last box and took it outside of the room. He waited a moment, then asked, "What happened?"

Mrs Weasley hesitated. After a moment's deliberation, she went, "Harry, I don't know how much you remember, but Professor Dumbledore had to take away certain memories of yours."

It all came back to him at once: their conversation, the sensations he had felt once the spell had been used on him, and yet...

"I can't remember what it was he took away," Harry said. Which had been the point of the whole thing, of course, but it was still an unusual sensation. He strained himself to remember, but it was impossible: he could recall sitting with Dumbledore, discussing the idea of removing his memories, but he could not bring to mind which had been taken away. The spell had apparently worked, much to his sudden irritation.

"Yes, well, he told us that it all went very well," Mrs Weasley said softly. "You should remember everything except what he meant to take away. The memories are all carefully stored somewhere, and once this whole thing is over, you can have them back."

"What did he end up putting them in?"

"I believe one of the knickknacks in his office," she said. "Which I must agree is probably the best choice. Voldemort would hardly just walk in and start blasting everything for no reason. Now, Harry, I've got to finish setting up the rooms. You had better get some rest."

She left the room, and Harry immediately attempted to recall the memories. Had they involved Ron and Hermione? No, that wouldn't make any sense, for it was already evident to everyone that they were his friends; there was no point in hiding that from Voldemort. Did he know something about the dark wizard that he could use to destroy him? No, that couldn't make any sense either, since he wasn't allowed to get the memories back until Voldemort was dead.

Had Harry perhaps learned a very dangerous spell that they couldn't risk Voldemort learning? There was a good possibility that Dumbledore had not meant for anyone to know it, and Harry had accidentally walked in when someone had been using it. This was probable, and yet there was no way of being certain. It wasn't as though anyone could tell him.

And though he knew that it was for the best, he couldn't help but be severely annoyed. He now knew how Ginny had felt in his second year, when she had had lapses in her memory when taken over by Tom Riddle. It was torturous, knowing that something was so close to being remembered, and yet also knowing that he could not know what it was for quite some time.

Whatever it was, he decided before falling asleep, it was bound to be extremely important, which naturally made the fact that he had forgotten it all the more frustrating.


	26. In Preparation

**Chapter 26**

"He took it quite well, given the circumstances," Remus said quietly.

"Yes, given the circumstances," Mrs Weasley repeated. "I expected as much. Though I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be in Harry's best interests to just get rid of the memories entirely."

"Don't say that, Molly," was the sharp response. "Harry will always feel as though he's missing something important: it's in the nature of the spell. To do that to him would be torture. No, he has a right to get back his memories the moment this is all over."

"You know how I feel about it," Mrs Weasley said. "I'm in the minority, I know, but I've never liked this thing from the start."

"Well, I just came by to tell you how he was doing." There was a pause, and then, "Is Arthur around?"

"No, but I'll be sure to pass on the message."

"Could you also mention that he wants to meet with you two and Dumbledore?"

"Yes, of course; we expected as much," Mrs Weasley sighed.

The kitchen door opened and their voices faded away as they walked away from the house. Harry stood at the top of the staircase, trying to figure out what they had been discussing. It had involved the memories that had been taken away from him, no doubt, but who had been this mysterious _he_? And why should he be concerned about Harry's situation?

He thought for a moment of the various males in his life: Ron, Neville, the Order members such as Dedalus, Bill and Charlie...none of them seemed to be likely candidates. He knew that he was supposed to be studying his book and trying his best _not_ to discover what he had been forced to forget, and yet this was proving to be immensely challenging.

He would have to neglect what he had overheard, however, as that night Dumbledore would be arriving with the final details of the plan. He would have to be alert in order to understand his part in all of it, as not paying attention could easily result in his death. This was no longer practice sessions, or school lessons, or meetings of Dumbledore's Army: this was the real thing, and he had to be prepared.

When the evening finally rolled around and dinner was done, wizards and witches began to arrive. Most of their expressions were grave, and even Tonks had replaced her shockingly pink hair in favour of mousy brown locks. She still winked at Harry, however, as she took a seat at the table.

When most of the kitchen had filled up, similar to its state just a few weeks prior, Dumbledore finally entered. He was wearing robes of the deepest purple, and on his head sat a hat decked with glittering stars. Despite his rather festive clothing, however, his expression was sombre as he stood before them.

"Thank you all once again for coming," he spoke. "I have, yet again, not much time here: I am expected at the castle shortly. I must ask that you all listen very closely, and keep your questions brief, as before the hour is up I should be leaving.

As you all know by now, we plan to arrive at the Jones' on the fifteenth, during the evening. We should be there by six, as Voldemort expects us to be there at nine. We shall all take our posts as soon as we arrive. I want two of you by the door—"

"Myself," Mad-Eye said gruffly. "And Bill."

Bill nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "and one of you by each window. I've spoken to those by the windows already, yes?"

Harry caught Hestia and Remus nodding, and as Dumbledore's eyes swept the room, he knew that many others were agreeing, though he could not see them from his spot at the table.

"Excellent. The rest of us shall be in the kitchen. If you see anything, you are to speak at once: we have no need to preoccupy ourselves with stealth at this point. When Voldemort arrives with the Death Eaters (we assume there will be a good thirty), we are to do our best to take down as many as possible, until Harry can deliver the final blow to Voldemort.

Harry will be under his Invisibility Cloak, and he has been studying the book I gave him very carefully. He can now perform such spells that allow him to increase the accuracy of his jinxes, render him temporarily invisible, make it so that others cannot hear his movements, and many other essential incantations that may save his life. You have all, for the most part, been trained as Aurors, and each person in this room is a highly gifted wizard or witch. I do not doubt that a number of Death Eaters shall be dealt with that night."

He paused and waited for questions. When there were none, he said, "I must leave now, but if there are any changes to the plan, it would be best that you come to Hogwarts to see me personally. It is rare that I have the time nowadays to answer letters."

They all began to stir, murmurs of conversation filling the kitchen. Unlike the last meeting, Harry did not have to attempt to catch Dumbledore before he left: the man came directly to him.

"I shall come back in a few days to make sure that you are ready for the fifteenth, Harry," he assured him. "Everything is going well?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. "I've been studying everything, and i'm nearly ready."

Dumbledore nodded and offered him a light smile. "I shall be here soon, then."

As he became swallowed up in the crowd making to leave, Harry felt that the old wizard seemed to be both weary and worried. Used to a cheerful, carefree Dumbledore, this was quite a change. He hardly had the time to concentrate on this, however, when a hand seized his shoulder.

"Harry?" Rosaline asked. "How have you been?"

"Alright, thanks," Harry answered, turning to speak to her. He saw that she had bags under her eyes. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," she joked. "No, you're right; I've had a lot of late nights. Order business, you know..." She looked around the kitchen as she trailed off, then spoke in an undertone, "I heard those memories were taken away from you, Harry. That's awful."

"It is," he agreed. "It's driving me insane, trying to figure out what it is I can't remember. I always feel like I'm so close, and then it just slips away."

She shook her head. "Terrible. Has Dumbledore got them?"

"Yeah, in one of the instruments from his office."

"Oh, I remember those," Rosaline laughed. "I saw him with one just a few days ago, actually, when I went to visit Hogwarts. Moved one of them right onto his desk. I bet that's the one."

Far from comforting Harry, this news irritated him further: it seemed that his memories were not too hard to reach, and yet he could not have the smallest indication of what they were. "Right, well, he'll keep an eye on it then."

"Too right he will," she muttered. "Well, Harry, best be going, lots to do."

She gave him a bracing smile and set off, leaving Harry to make his way to his bedroom with nothing but his thoughts for company.

-o-

The next few days were spent practicing every spell in the book. He had come a great ways from hardly being able to pronounce the incantations: in a few months time he knew more than even Hermione could boast.

"_Cachetia_," Harry muttered. Given that he would not want to draw attention to himself, he could not cry out the words, and so he had been practicing to say them in hardly more than a whisper. He began to sneak across the room, revelling in the fact that he made no noise to speak of. He could creep up directly behind Voldemort, and the wizard would not hear a sound.

Satisfied by the fact that he had just practiced the same spell two dozen times, he sat on his bed to take a quick break. He knew that he could not tire himself out, as he would need all of the energy he could get for the final battle. Mrs Weasley was aware of this as well, feeding him triple servings at every meal.

Harry was surprised by the fact that he was not nervous, or anxious, or afraid. He had known for months of the plan, and now that the fifteenth was approaching, he did not dread it whatsoever. He recalled his fourth year, when he had had to battle a dragon, go deep underwater to rescue Ron, and come out of a maze in order to win the Triwizard Tournament: he had been so worried about completing each of these tasks that the mere thought of them had made him feel sick. Now, he was facing the most evil wizard of all time, and he felt nothing towards the entire situation.

This was probably due to the fact that all he could think of were the memories he had lost. Though of course he wanted to kill Voldemort to spare the lives of thousands of people, he also wanted to do so to get back all that had been taken away from him.

He decided that tomorrow, and for the next few days, he would practice in the sitting room. That way he could easily watch the kitchen and view all of the males who came and went. Perhaps then he could figure out what memories he had lost, or at least have a clue, if the 'he' Mrs Weasley and Remus had mentioned stopped by.

It was wrong of him, and he knew it, but he could hardly stop himself. If he had a bit of an idea of what he had forgotten and Voldemort saw as much, it wouldn't ruin everything, would it?

He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to answer that question.

* * *

A big thanks to my friend Jean, who helped me with the spell name, Cachetia (Cacher meaning "to hide" in French). A small teaser for everyone: Severus shows up in the next chapter! Reviews will make me write faster as well, though you can expect the next chapter in the next 2 or 3 days at the latest. I want to finish this before September, I really do, so much that I just wrote two chapters in one day. Thank you for reading, and thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! Truly appreciated!


	27. Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter 27**

Harry was nearly ready to have a break and get a bite to eat. It was an hour or so before noon, but he had had an early breakfast, as was usually the case nowadays. He went to bed late and woke up early, and for some odd reason he was not tired throughout the day. He was far too anxious for the fifteenth to come, and though he tried to convince himself that it was because he finally wanted to kill Voldemort, he knew that that was hardly the sole reason.

Now that they were nearing the date, Harry was finally beginning to feel his nerves come into play. For a second, he had feared that he had become completely apathetic: his lack of emotion towards fighting the most dangerous wizard alive was rather strange, and it was a relief to finally feel some sort of worry. He truly wanted to get on with the plan so that he could rid the world of Voldemort, take care of the Death Eaters, and then finally get his memories back.

He knew it was terrible of him, but he could not help but desperately wish to know what they were. And so here he was, in the sitting room, watching the males who entered the house. They had had few visitors other than Remus, Elphias Doge, and various members of the Weasley clan. Harry was fairly certain that no other men were about to arrive any time soon, when the door suddenly opened. Craning his neck, he felt himself freeze as the cold, black eyes of Professor Snape gazed down upon him.

The man walked into the kitchen and stood by the table. A second later, Mr Weasley was coming down the stairs, pulling his cloak around him.

"Severus, yes," he breathed. "So sorry I'm late; we've only just found out...but of course..."

Snape said nothing as they both walked out of the house.

Harry felt very peculiar. Of course, he felt the usual animosity towards his Potions professor, but something else stirred beneath those feelings. He tried to figure it out, but it was like trying to cup water in one's hands: the more he tried, the further it trickled away.

He thought back to his past Potions lessons, and suddenly, he found it very difficult to remember any of them. The faint images of cauldrons and fumes entered his mind, coupled with the occasional verbal instructions, but that was all that he could recall. Try as he might, he could call to mind very little of the classes, and certainly nothing of Snape teaching them.

Was this what he had forgotten? His mind raced with theories. Perhaps Snape had been revealing too much information about how he spied for Dumbledore, and there had been a need to erase some of it? But no, that didn't make sense, because if that was the case, Harry wouldn't even know at the moment that Snape was a spy in the first place.

Maybe Harry had walked in on a conversation between Dumbledore and the Potions Master about something that would help them defeat Voldemort. Or better yet, perhaps Harry had overheard Dumbledore talking about the reason why he trusted Snape.

But then why would Harry have to have bits of his memory regarding his Potions classes taken away? The temptation to ask Dumbledore was fierce, and yet he knew that he couldn't possibly do that. The last thing they needed was for Harry to realise what he had been forced to fail to remember; then Dumbledore would have to take those memories away as well, and the man seemed to have more than enough work to do these days.

-o-

The beginning of June brought beautiful weather. Harry spent most of him time outdoors, enjoying the sun beating down on him. The fifteenth stood before him like a dragon that was blocking the way: he had to get past it in order to continue on with his life.

Everything was ready. The Order members knew their positions, Harry could perform the spells necessary in his sleep, and Voldemort was certain to be there. According to Bill, the evil wizard had made sure to gather his most powerful Death Eaters, in hopes of taking down as many Order members as possible. Snape had done his job well.

With all of the preparations finished, there wasn't much to do other than wait. Harry could no longer bring himself to cast each spell in the book one last time. He was grateful that Hermione was not there, for he knew that she would be breathing down his neck, forcing him to perfect them over and over. Instead, Harry spent most of his time lounging around, eating, and trying his hardest not to think of the battle ahead. Or of his memories.

When Snape came to the Burrow a second time, he was surrounded by many Order members. Harry was surprised to see McGonagall and Flitwick walking beside him, talking in low whispers: it was rare that they left Hogwarts, given that they had to be there to take care for the students. He did not get a chance to hear what they were there for, however, as they stepped into the house to meet with Mrs Weasley. Harry was out in the yard, laying on the grass, and yet they had not noticed him. He supposed that this was because he was a ways from the house.

It did not matter, however, for Mrs Weasley must have told them where he was: the moment they came back out they walked towards him. Flitwick was grinning, McGonagall appeared to be quite concerned, and Snape stood back. Harry supposed that despite the fact that they were fighting the same war, Snape was not ready to acknowledge his existence just yet. The greasy git stood by the porch, eyes surveying the grass. Harry wondered how Ron would feel about Snape being in his house.

"Harry," McGonagall said, reaching him first. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, thanks," he answered.

"Professor Dumbledore shall be here in a few days," she told him. "He wants to go over things one last time with you."

"Are you feeling confident, Harry?" Flitwick asked gently.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I've gone over everything so many times, it shouldn't be too bad."

McGonagall chose to ignore that comment and said instead, "I do hope you're getting your rest, Mr Potter. You will need it."

He nodded. "Mrs Weasley has been feeding me up."

McGonagall allowed herself a small smile. "Well, we have to get back to Hogwarts. Do keep an eye out for Professor Dumbledore."

"Yes, professor," he promised her. "Bye, then."

Flitwick and McGonagall bid him farewell and returned to Snape, who was staring pointedly at the ground. They turned their backs to him and began to leave, but after a few moments, Snape looked over his shoulder at Harry. Surprised, the latter stared back at him, refusing to be daunted. It was to his amazement that Snape's face did not carry its usual condescending sneer; if anything, he seemed to be sad. Harry had never imagined that the snarky teacher could feel any human emotions other than hate and anger, and so to see Snape looking morose was surprising, at best.

The man did not look back for long, however: he soon directed his attention to Flitwick, speaking words to him that Harry could not hear.

Confused by this bizarre display of affection, Harry decided to go into the house, where the rest of the Order members that had arrived were seated. They greeted him warmly and offered him some lunch, but he declined politely, explaining that he had to finish some things upstairs.

Taking it in mind to have a quick nap, he went to his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He had barely perched himself there, however, when a sharp rap came at his window: Hedwig was there.

"Hedwig," he gasped, opening the window to grant her entrance. He had not brought her to The Burrow, figuring that she would prefer to stay in Hogwarts' Owlery. But here she was, eyeing him rather sourly, with a letter stuck to her leg.

Making quick work of untying his mail, he gave Hedwig a few pats on the head and promised her treats later. Content, she hopped to his dresser and began to clean herself.

Harry sat on the bed and tore open the letter, recognizing the script at once.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? We can't say too much in case this is intercepted, but we wanted to send you a letter before the fifteenth._

_Everything is going well here: we've been studying hard for exams. Ron has actually decided to get in some serious study time (surprise, surprise), and so we expect that he'll do quite well. I'm not so sure myself, as I've loads to memorise for Ancient Runes—I might not have the time to finish everything._

_Things are more or less the same at Hogwarts since you left. We've been thinking of you often, hoping you are doing well. We're both excited to meet up with you again and have you teach us the spells you've been learning. You're so lucky, getting to learn such advanced magic, we're fairly jealous._

_This has to be kept short, since we have class in a few minutes, but we both really hope that you're doing alright. Neville and Luna send their best wishes, and say that they hope everything goes well for you._

_Best of luck Harry, we really want to be there with you,_

_Ron and Hermione_

Finished reading the letter, Harry put it back into the envelope and stretched himself across his bed. He would have to write them back, of course, thanking them for their support and kind words. He had half a mind to ask if they knew what memories he had lost, but thought better of it; it was unlikely that Hermione would be willing to divulge much, anyways.

He was grateful for their letter, though he would much rather that they came to see him. He knew it was impossible, as they had exams, and there was no way that they could be a part of the battle. Harry was only allowed because he was, in the end, the only person who could defeat Voldemort. Hermione and Ron being present would never be permitted, and even if it was, they would have to had studied the same spells as him. There was no time for even Hermione to master most of them. At the very least, he would have liked to see his best friends 

before going off to face Voldemort, but perhaps it was best this way. No matter how much help he received from anyone else, this was ultimately between Voldemort and himself.

-o-

"Everything is fine, sir," Harry said for what felt like the millionth time. "I know all of the spells, I feel alright, and I know exactly what to do. I've got my Cloak ready, too."

"Excellent," was Dumbledore's reply. "Is there anything else you should like to ask me before I leave? We shall not meet again until the fifteenth."

"No, sir," Harry said. He doubted that a question would suddenly arise within two days, and if it did, he had several Order members who were staying at The Burrow to question.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore sighed. "The time is done for preparing, Harry. I fear we must now fight."

Harry had no answer, and so chose not to reply. When a few seconds passed, he asked, "Are my memories being kept at school, professor?"

"No, Harry, they are with me," Dumbledore replied. "I felt that it was best this way. Do not worry: I have taken the utmost care to ensure that the object shall not be tampered with. I doubt that anyone shall know what it is, anyways. I have so many trinkets in my office that one missing shall not matter much. You have nothing to fear."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. Feeling tired, he barely repressed a yawn. It was nearing midnight, and he had recently suffered through a number of sleepless nights.

"You had best to go sleep," Dumbledore said, rising from the table. "I shall see you in two days, Harry." He placed his hand briefly on the younger wizard's shoulder, his expression grave. "Do be careful."

Harry nodded, and the Headmaster left. He would try his best to obey the order, though he wondered how easy it was to be careful in a room full of Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself—which was, of course, where he would soon be headed. The very thought made him sick, and so he went to bed. A small voice in his head reminded him that it was only two days until he got back his memories, but he chose to ignore it. It was hardly the time to think of such things. His death could very possibly be imminent.

* * *

Three more chapters to go! So bittersweet! On the one hand, I'm so proud of having written this and of it being done. On the other hand, it will feel like letting go of a good friend, as corny as that sounds. I know I said I wouldn't have it up for 3 days, but I'm actually going to try my hardest to finish it in the next day or so. Chapter 30 is done, after all. Can I do it? Perhaps! Reviews would help, of course. Thanks for reading, and take good care, everyone.


	28. The Final Battle

**Chapter 28**

"Is everyone ready?" Mad-Eye asked gruffly, surveying them with his magical eye. Harry nodded along with most of the group assembled around him; a few witches voiced their confirmation. "Right, then, we Apparate in groups, as discussed. Potter," he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him close, "you're up with Lupin, Bill, and myself."

The three wizards approached, and in a moment, they were Apparating. No matter how many times Harry did it, he knew, he would never get used to the sensation. It was possibly worse than Floo powder, feeling as though you were being hoisted by your navel into the air. Thoroughly dizzy when his feet finally touched a firm, hardwood floor, Harry took a moment to register his surroundings.

The house was empty of all furniture save a grandfather clock, a bookcase, and a few mismatched chairs. Harry suspected that the Order had removed most of the furniture to ensure not only that it wasn't damaged, but that it didn't get in the way during the battle. Harry barely had the time to read the clock, which told him that it was six minutes after five, when Moody was pulling him out of the way. In the space where he had just been standing another group arrived, consisting of the same witches who had spoken earlier.

Harry made his way to the kitchen, which was completely empty. As the others began to arrive, many of them took their posts by the windows, scrutinizing the dark sky outside. Harry was to stay in the kitchen, close by Mr Weasley, and wait until someone spotted Voldemort.

When everyone was finally there, and Dumbledore was by Harry's side, the tension was almost unbearable. It was worse than anything Harry could have imagined: months of preparation added up to the next few hours. People, including himself and those he cared about, could die tonight. He looked around at the brave faces in the room, wondering if he would be watching them breathe for the last time, when he realised that Rosaline was not present.

"Professor?" Harry muttered. He could have spoken louder, of course, but a foreboding silence reigned in the house, and it would have felt odd to break it. When Dumbledore looked down at him, he asked, "Do you know where Rosaline is?"

Dumbledore frowned. "I do not."

That was the end of the conversation. Worry for his friend now mixing with his previous dread, Harry felt the urge to pace become stronger and stronger. A few more minutes passed, and Dumbledore said, "You had best put on your Cloak, Harry."

Harry followed the directions and slipped under his Invisibility Cloak, wand gripped tightly in his hand. He strained his ears, expecting at any second to hear a high-pitched laugh echo through the night. The slightest scrape of someone's shoe against the linoleum made his breath catch in his throat, the simplest mutterings gave him goose bumps, and when the wind battered the house he expected Voldemort to pop out at any second.

Suddenly, when Harry felt that he could take no more of the suspense, Hestia Jones murmured, "There he is."

Harry could see nothing out of the window, but it mattered not: they all took her word for it and huddled closer, bracing themselves. All except Dumbledore, who stepped away from the group and approached the window. He spoke quietly with Hestia, and then she came to fill the spot that Dumbledore had previously occupied. The Headmaster held his wand at the ready, looking outside, his expression stern.

The door suddenly shook in its frame. Harry tensed, fear slithering through his stomach like a snake. It shook again, and again, then finally it fell to the floor. All was quiet, and Harry wondered if it had not been the ferocious wind outdoors that had unhinged the door.

Voldemort then entered the living room, followed closely by a number of masked Death Eaters.

"Albus," he said, voice pouring into Harry's very being like frigid water. "We meet again."

"Tom," said Dumbledore, his voice containing little emotion. "You seem to have expected us. A spy, no doubt?"

"Severus Snape," Voldemort told him, standing several feet away.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore sighed. "I should have known."

"I'm surprised it slipped your notice," Voldemort sneered. "But of course, you cannot beat yourself up over these things, Dumbledore...old age, you know..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore cut him off. "And what did he tell you you could find here, Tom?"

"Why, none other than Harry Potter."

Dumbledore feigned surprise. "Harry isn't here."

"Oh, but he is," Voldemort laughed. "And I happen to know that you possess something of his, old man, something very valuable to him. Give it to me, and perhaps you will be spared."

When Dumbledore remained silent, the Death Eaters stirred angrily. Their master was losing his patience.

"I know he's here," he hissed. "And I know what you have of his. His memories."

Harry felt his throat tighten by several degrees. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't give his memories to Voldemort. But if he didn't, if he was killed for not giving them away...

"Give them to me," Voldemort ordered, advancing by several feet. Many of the Order raised their wands, and the Death Eaters were quick to mimic them.

"If you wish to kill me, unless I hand them over," Dumbledore uttered, "then so be it. Thanks to you, Tom, love in this world is becoming nonexistent. These memories contain more love than you have ever managed to create in your entire life. I will not simply hand them over, you understand."

Harry was profoundly confused by these words, but had not the chance to reflect on them; Voldemort's face was contorting with rage.

He opened his mouth and hesitated, and Harry thought that he was trying to decide what to say next, when he pointed his wand at Dumbledore and yelled, _"Avada Keda—"_

Dumbledore whipped his wand and sent Voldemort flying back into the opposite wall. The battle had now truly commenced: the Order members rushed onto the Death Eaters, and spells were soon flying in all directions. In but a few seconds one of Voldemort's troops, a heavy man with curly hair, fell to the ground. He was dead. It was now obvious to Harry, more so than ever, that tonight's battle was a fight to the death.

Trying to stay calm and recall all that he had learned, Harry whispered a few quick spells and slunk to a corner of the room. It was terrible, watching the others duel, and yet he knew that he had to keep out of the way until an opportunity came. He had but to cast a shield charm around himself every few minutes, and keep a look out for when Voldemort could be hit.

He wanted to finish the fight as soon as possible, before someone from his side was killed, but this seemed to be impossible. Voldemort was firing curses in every direction, mostly at Dumbledore, who was intent on occupying the man's attention.

Finally, Voldemort had his backed turned to Harry, and he knew that it was his time to strike. He lunged out, but had barely walked three steps when he collided into a Death Eater. Fortunately, the room was so crowded that the woman did not notice she had bumped into something invisible, but his Cloak slipped considerably.

He began to rearrange it when he caught someone staring directly at him: he had seen some of Harry's leg when the Cloak slipped. He thought wildly of whether to fight back or run, but it did not matter: Dumbledore had seen everything. The Headmaster sent a curse flying into the man who had witnessed Harry's fumbling, and he soared into the air with a painful yelp.

This was what Voldemort had been waiting for: in a split second he yelled, "_Avada Kedrava!"_ and hit Dumbledore square in the chest.

As the old man crumpled to the floor, Harry felt as though the world itself was collapsing around him. It did not matter now that he had to kill Voldemort, or that Voldemort knew his memories had been taken away—all that mattered was that Dumbledore had fallen. Surely he would get up? Harry advanced, but Voldemort reached the corpse first, and extracted from the folds of Dumbledore's cloak a battered book.

The book Harry had seen in his dreams.

The book that contained his memories.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort roared. The room went silent except for the sound of heavy panting: most of its occupants were exhausted. "Harry Potter, I have here your memories. I know you are here. Reveal yourself."

The blood was pounding so hard in Harry's ears, he was surprised Voldemort could not hear it as well. He kept his mouth firmly shut. He would not let Dumbledore die in vain.

"Very well, then," Voldemort cackled. He brought the tip of his wand to the book, and its spine burst into flame.

Harry fell to the floor, memories sweeping into his mind like wildfire. It was fortunate that he had cast a number of silencing spells upon himself, for if he hadn't, Voldemort would have found him within a second.

He saw Snape looking down on him, almost affectionately...himself, screaming at Ron...Neville speaking to him, his round face worried...Snape again, reaching out to him, as though wanting to comfort him...

The memories stopped coming, and when Harry was finally able to look up, the book was nothing more than a small pile of ashes scattered across the floor.

His memories were gone.

And though he knew not what they were, for some unexplainable reason, Harry felt fury well up inside himself like he had never felt before. He knew that he had lost something precious, something impossible to ever get back again, and it was due to the sneering man in front of him.

He rose his wand, vision swimming, and roared, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Silence. Darkness. He collapsed onto the floor.


	29. Reflections

**Chapter 29**

My favourite chapter yet. Please enjoy.

* * *

The colours of Fall were pretty, and Harry had always enjoyed them. Red and orange were his particular favourites, and he had a bit of a penchant for yellow. He did not like brown, though. It reminded him of death, old age, and withering away, none of which he wanted to think of on a daily basis.

October brought such a pallet, however, that he refused to spend much time indoors. Those around him watched cautiously as he sat on the porch, book in hands, listening to the wind whispering through the leaves. How nice it was, to read something other than a volume containing complicated spells.

He read everything he could get his hands on. Romance novels, comedies, even a few mystery stories. He skipped the murder bits, however. He always skipped those.

He found himself drawn to the love scenes more than anything else. He could not explain it, but when he saw two characters get together at last, it made him happy long after he had closed the book and put it back on his bookshelf. His especially enjoyed _Pride and Prejudice_. Imagine, the characters hated each other, and ended up falling in love. Such a lovely book. He had read it many times. He could not explain why he loved romance novels; it could probably be explained by the memories he had lost, but of course, they were just that: lost.

The moment he had woken up, five days after the battle, his first order of business had been to discover what the memories had been. Since Voldemort was now dead, there could be no harm in him knowing, after all. He had feared that only Dumbledore would know what they were, but he need not have worried: everyone but him seemed to know. They told him, however, that only one person was suited to explain everything to him. And so he had to wait until that person came.

Alone in his bed, recovering, he had realised many things. At first he had felt stupid that he had not noticed them before, but he blamed that on stress. For one thing, all the old Daily Prophets had been removed from the house. He found this rather odd. For another, nobody discussed his Hogwarts classes with him. They would talk to him about his parents, Quidditch, his friends, his future plans, but never the school. He therefore decided that these mysterious memories had once appeared in the Daily Prophet, and had once had something to do with Hogwarts.

Had Dumbledore not mentioned something about love, also? Had he meant romantic love, friendship, or some other type of love? He could never ask, of course, now that the Headmaster was dead. But this was not what pained him about the elderly man's death. It was the fact that he would never be offered a sweet in a time of great peril, he would never see those twinkling eyes, he would never get to speak to that wise professor ever again.

The death had taken a long time to sink in. With Sirius, he had been able to accept it within a few weeks. But by the end of October, when the leaves were changing and falling to the ground, he still woke at times and thought of sending an owl to Dumbledore. The entire experience seemed utterly dreamlike to him, and yet he knew it was real. Horribly, painfully, devastatingly real.

He felt a large amount of anger. Most of it was directed at both Rosaline and Voldemort. Rosaline, who was now locked up in Azkaban, had been the one to betray the Order. She had told Voldemort of Harry's memories. She had told him of the entire plan. The very idea made Harry's blood boil.

And Voldemort. Voldemort, who had killed one of the few friends Harry had ever had, not to mention his godfather and his parents. Voldemort, who had caused so much destruction. Voldemort, who was now finally dead, thanks to Harry himself. He did not remember seeing the wizard's body fall to the floor in defeat, because he had passed out just moments before. He hated himself for that: it would have been a small, sweet reward to have seen Voldemort falter, proving once and for all that he truly was as mortal as any other man. But he had not, and he could only imagine it. He spent much of his time doing just that.

Ron and Hermione stuck by his side at all times. It had taken much convincing to get them to return to Hogwarts for their seventh year, but Harry would not budge on the matter: it was bad enough that they had left Hogwarts in order to come see him, and in consequence missed their exams. Though it comforted him somewhat to know that they taken them at The Burrow, it mattered not. Their education would not be wasted for his sake, regardless of what they said.

Besides, he liked to be alone. It was therapeutic to sit by himself outside, counting the leaves on the tree, and to feel fresh tears come to his eyes when they eventually fell to the ground. For everything would fall at some time, no matter how sad it was.

That was how his life passed—waiting, watching, grieving—until Severus Snape came to call.

When the hook-nosed professor had first walked into his room, a curt knock at the door signalling his presence, Harry suspected that he was there on Hogwarts business. McGonagall had already tried several times to convince him to return to Hogwarts, each time without success. Perhaps she had decided that threats and hissed insults were necessary.

And so as Snape took his seat by Harry's bed, face lacking any sort of emotion, Harry crossed his arms. He had been having one of his bad days: his body felt frail, and whenever he sat up, he felt dizzy. He had been told that that would pass with time, but at present, he highly doubted it. And although Snape was probably well aware of his condition, it still humiliated him for the Potions Master to see him weakened like this.

The man, however, did not seem interested in mocking him. A silence fell between them, punctuated occasionally by the sound of Mrs Weasley's voice downstairs, until he said, "I've come to tell you what your memories were. If you wish to know, that is."

What shocked Harry was not the fact that Snape had not said the usual "Oh, how are you? We're all so worried—please come back to school soon." He had not expected it from him, anyways. No, it was the fact that his voice was void of any sarcasm. If anything, he sounded exhausted, and Harry wondered whether it was a physical or emotional weariness.

"I want to know," he said quietly.

Snape drew in a breath, then said, "When you first arrived at Hogwarts, you hated me. It is understandable why, of course, but you did. And I daresay that I wasn't particularly fond of you, either. This summer, you came to stay at Hogwarts. The Headmaster requested that I teach you remedial Potions, and so I did, albeit grudgingly. All passed normally, until you...began to act strangely. You requested extra sessions, seemed upset when I insulted you, and other such things. Then one night, for what reasons I am still not entirely sure, you took out your little map and saw that I was patrolling the hallways. You decided to come and see me. I was, of course, well aware of what was going on, whether you were or not. I invited you to my private chambers, and asked you what you were up to. When you lied and told me that you were wandering the corridors in hopes of finding me, so that you could ask me for help with your homework, I then knew what I had suspected all along."

He took another deep breath, and when Harry said nothing, he managed to mutter, "You had fallen in love with me."

"No."

"Allow me to continue, and then you may formulate an opinion," Snape reasoned with him. "I expressed my suspicions, and far from denying them, you allowed me to kiss you. Things then took their...natural course, in my bedroom.

We continued the relationship for several months, until you decided to tell Ms Granger. Her reaction was acceptable, but she got it into your head that you had to tell Mr Weasley of our affairs. You did, and within a few days, the entire school knew of it. We tried our best to keep it secret, but the Ministry became involved, and one night we were caught by the Headmaster, who knew of it already, and Fudge himself. I had to flee, and I have been in hiding ever since." 

He allowed himself a small smile, and added, "And still in love with you the entire time, I might add."

Harry shook his head. "You're lying."

"I assure you, I am not."

"That can't be true," Harry muttered. "It's impossible. It's, it's—get out."

"What?" Snape asked, surprised.

"Get out!" Harry roared, pointing to the door. "Don't ever bloody well come back to me again!"

Snape watched him carefully, face more pale than Harry had ever seen it. He then slowly, cautiously, rose from his seat and left.

The moment Harry heard the kitchen door shut, he burst into tears. Terrible, pathetic, salty tears, but he didn't care. It was all he could do to retain his sanity.

He heard the floor creak and looked up: Mrs Weasley was there.

"Has he told you?" she asked, coming to take the seat Snape had just been occupying.

"He told me something about us being in love, and getting caught, and..." He looked up at her, and asked, "Is it true?"

She said nothing, and merely brought him into her arms, surrounding him with her warmth. That was all the answer he needed.

He broke into a fresh wave of tears.

-o-

Winter colours were still rather pretty, though not quite as nice as those of the Fall. All the same, Harry enjoyed the whites and blues of the outdoors. They were pure, refreshing tones, and he found himself more often than not sitting out on the porch, even when it was freezing outside.

Mrs Weasley would not try to stop him; rather, she would furnish him with several woolly blankets. Waiting inside for him was always a steaming mug of hot cocoa, or else a warm bowl of soup. He was always grateful for either.

Dumbledore's death was starting to sink in. He was no longer waking up in the morning and wondering if he would visit. The nightmares, conversely, in which the Headmaster was brutally murdered, did not stop. Harry doubted if they ever would. And somehow, he was alright with that.

He was missing something, though he knew not what. He felt like he was writing a final exam, and had just finished writing an essay, but he knew he had forgotten an essential element. He would sit at his seat for half an hour, gazing at the back of the person in front of him, and yet he could not remember. By the end of the class, he would hand in his paper, and rush off to review his notes and find out what he had forgotten. He was now waiting for the moment when he read in his notes precisely what he had neglected to write, and feel the satisfaction of finally knowing what he had missed wash over him.

But so far, the discovery had yet to happen.

When Hermione and Ron came for the holidays, he asked them if Snape's story was true. They both replied in the affirmative, as had everyone else so far. Why then could he not accept it? Was it that difficult to believe?

Perhaps there _was_ a side to Snape that he had never before known. And maybe, just maybe, he had gotten to know that side during last summer. Snape, after all, had never put him on a pedestal due to his fame. He would have liked that about the man. And then there was his humour, which, despite being cruel at times, Harry had to admit was often entertaining.

But he was _Snape_. Rude, sarcastic, condescending, greasy Snape. And a man, at that. Harry doubted that he was gay, as he failed to remember ever having feelings for another male.

Had Snape been the lucky man?

Even if he had, it mattered not. Harry hadn't the slightest idea where to find him, or how to contact him. On a whim he had attempted to send him an owl, but within a few days, Hedwig had returned his letter back to him. So Snape wasn't receiving mail. Or his mail, anyways. He thought once or twice about getting Ron or Hermione to write to him instead, but knew that it would do no more than infuriate the man further.

Was this how he would have to spend his life? Feeling constantly as though he was missing something absolutely essential that could never be replaced? It was hardly a decent way of living. It kept him awake at night, haunted his waking thoughts, and made it so that at times he became horribly short-tempered and irritable.

He had to have back what he had lost. Had it been Snape? Without his memories, he would never know. And suppose for a moment that what Snape had been saying was the truth. How could it ever be the same? All of the times they had spent together, all of their courting, their intimate moments, the first time they had had sex...lost. The very thought of it despaired him to no end.

And so he had two choices, really. Forget the man and move on, or attempt to restart a relationship from scratch. The fact that he was being ignored told him that the decision had already been made for him: he had to move on and try to fill the piece in his life that was now missing.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to.


	30. All I Ever Wanted

**Chapter 30**

Spring held many beautiful colours, ranging from vibrant pinks to earthy greens. This was especially evident in the forest. As Harry walked through the trees, he got to enjoy the fresh smell of rain in the air. He touched a few trunks, amazed at the ancient wisdom that he felt they held. They had seen many births, and many deaths. And so had he.

The letter he had received had been short. It was so true to Snape's character, so plain and without ornamentation, that he had felt it was impossible to ignore it. How could he? He had been waiting months for the slightest indication of where to find the man, and now he had received a map to get there.

Funny enough, he felt as though he had been here before. It was almost as though he had dreamt of the forest long ago, perhaps in his childhood, and was here stepping through it. For all he knew, the lush vegetation could well be a figment of his imagination. Nowadays, that wouldn't surprise him.

When he had first received Snape's letter, he had been shocked. Casually sitting at the Weasleys' table, enjoying the fresh air coming in from the open door, he had hardly expected any mail. He had just received letters from Hermione and Ron, and nobody else wrote him.

The script had been small and cramped, nothing particularly fancy. His use of the word "Harry" rather than "Potter" had surprised him, and yet it was to be expected. They had apparently snogged, after all. And really, now that he thought of it, that was not such an unlikely concept. The man certainly wasn't ugly. And Harry was of age now.

At the very least, if finding Snape helped fill the void in his life, it would all be worth it. Even if he had to learn to love him once again. Was it possible to learn to love someone? Was it possible to love someone, forget that you do, and then love them again? Dumbledore had said on many occasions that loved conquered all. But weren't memories part of the foundation of love? One did not simply look at someone and fall in love unconditionally. It took much time to develop those types of feelings, and if all of that time was suddenly erased in one's mind, could love ever overcome that?

Months ago, he had been incapable of imagining his life without the threat of Voldemort. And now here he was, living in a free world, and he was as miserable as ever. He knew not in what direction his life was headed, nor did he know what to do next with himself. He had to return to Hogwarts and finish his education, of course, but he no longer had the drive to do so. Given he had personally killed Voldemort, he would be accepted for Auror training as soon as he was out of Hogwarts—but was that what he wanted? To see more people die, to kill more men and women, to ruin more families? He had had enough of it for one lifetime. He had killed the most evil wizard that had ever lived. Wasn't that enough? Apparently not.

Suppose he went to Hogwarts and finished up his sixth and seventh years. What then? If he didn't go through with Auror training, what else would he like to do? He couldn't be a Healer, he knew that right away. It was too much of a responsibility for him nowadays. Quidditch no longer held the same appeal that it once did. He was tired of being in the spotlight.

At seventeen years of age, Harry felt ready to retire. He was done, both physically and emotionally. Even this small hike through the forest was causing his sides to cramp and his breath to come in small pants; his leg throbbed painfully whenever he took a step. Emotionally and mentally, his mind simply did not function the way it did before. It took him much longer to remember the most simple of concepts than it ever had in the past, and that, the Healers had told him, would most likely be a permanent problem.

He was fit for nothing anymore, and here he was, wandering in the woods, trying to find someone who could make sense of it all. Someone who loathed him, who had teased and taunted him mercilessly, someone he had wanted to give a good kick since his first few days at Hogwarts.

And he was depending on this very person to sort out his life for him.

It made no sense to him. How could he expect this man to be able to fix everything? The moment he had read the letter, he had felt an urge stronger than any he had ever experienced before to go and see him. His mind was somehow convincing him that finding Snape added up to finding the answers to everything in his life. It was ridiculous, preposterous, and yet, it was all he had.

When at last he approached a cabin, he felt again that it was familiar. Not even bothering to try and remember when he had seen it, he travelled up a small dirt path. Smoke was rising from a stone chimney, and a number of cauldrons were set around the door. The house was positioned in a clearing in the woods, and a few yards away was an enormous greenhouse.

He wondered whether he should ring the bell or knock, but it made no difference: as he neared the structure, its owner came out of the door.

Gray was beginning to weave itself into his black locks, and it was odd to see him in a blue Muggle jumper and jeans. Harry walked up to him, heart beating a tattoo against his chest, and he stopped just short of the wooden porch. Snape stood by the house, unsure of what to do.

"You came," he said.

Harry nodded. "I did."

"How are you?"

"Today is a good day."

"I see." Snape paused, then said, "Have you thought of my story? I shouldn't have gone and approached you like that, it was wrong of me, throwing all of that onto you at once."

"No," Harry sighed. "It's fine. You did the right thing. And I've thought of it. The truth is...I don't know what to do anymore. Something's missing, I can't explain it, but something that's supposed to be in my life isn't there anymore. And given I lost my memories about us, I figured it was you."

"Understandable," Snape muttered, coming closer. "And what have you decided to do?"

"Well, first of all, I'm going to call you by your real name," Harry grinned for the first time in months. "Second of all, I want to try this again."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Do you, now?"

"I do," Harry replied. "I'm missing something in my life, so this has to be it. And I feel something towards you. It's like my mind knows it's in love with you, it just can't remember the details of why." He sighed. "I spoke to everyone about what happened, and I heard about how I betrayed you. I'm so sorry, I really am. This entire mess, losing my memories, your isolation from society, is all my fault."

"Goodness, I thought I had finally gotten away from your apologies," Severus smirked. "Really, Harry, it's not necessary."

"But it is, it's all my fault—"

He could not speak as he felt hot lips press against his own. It felt wonderful, perfect, as his tongue slithered around Severus' in a tantalizing dance. He ran his fingers through his black hair, unable to figure out why he and his friends had ever called it greasy, and pushed his body up against him. They backed up several paces until Severus was up against the house.

And he realised that this was _exactly_ where he was supposed to be.

"It's just," Harry panted, breaking away. "Now, you can't go out of the house—"

"I hate the outdoors."

"—you can't work at Hogwarts—"

"I have my own Potions business now, by mail order, much less stressful."

"--and you're stuck with me."

Severus ruffled his hair and kissed his brow. "That's all I ever wanted."

_In this world you tried,  
Not leaving me alone, behind.  
There's no other way:  
I prayed to the gods, let him stay.  
The memories ease the pain inside,  
Now I know why._

_All of my memories keep you near:  
In silent moments, imagine you here.  
All of my memories keep you near.  
Your silent whispers, silent tears._

_Made me promise I'd try  
To find my way back in this life.  
I hope there is a way  
To give me a sign you're ok.  
Reminds me again it's worth it all  
So I can go on._

_All of my memories keep you near:  
In silent moments, imagine you here.  
All of my memories keep you near.  
Your silent whispers, silent tears._

_Together in all these memories  
I see your smile.  
All the memories I hold dear.  
Darling, you know I will love you  
'Till the end of time._

_All of my memories keep you near:  
In silent moments, imagine you here.  
__All of my memories keep you near.  
Your silent whispers, silent tears._

_All of my memories..._

* * *

I can't believe it's actually done. I cannot believe it. First of all, I want to thank everyone who read this, especially my faithful readers who gave review after wonderful review. I can't name you all in case I forget someone, and I feel guilty for it, but I hope you know who you are! I love you all so very much, you darling people who have made writing this such a pleasure. Thank you, secondly, to anyone who has put this on an alert list, put it on their favorites list, or who has just plain read the story. It is appreciated, as it is thanks to all of you that I have the oppurtunity to write and share my work with everyone. Finally, I would just like to say that this has been a wonderful adventure for me. I feel the story has improved my writing greatly, and this is the first lengthy story I have actually finished.

Please check out my profile to see what I have in line next. I'd also like to quickly point out that the lyrics at the end are from the song Memories, by Within Temptation, on which this story is based. I take no credit for it, though it is beautiful, and was on repeat during my entire writing of this story (over 4000 times played, yikes). Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you can take a moment to leave a quick review and tell me what you thought! Best of wishes to all of you, and I really do truly mean that.


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